


Where'd You Go?

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Drama, Hogwarts Era, Love/Hate, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-23
Updated: 2007-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-26 11:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Harry left for parts unknown, leaving Ginny lonely and bitter. But she gave him forever anyway. Little did she know the promises she made would haunt her in the worst way when she found solace in a most unlikely person in a war-torn world. Harry/Ginny/Draco.





	1. Where'd You Go?

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: **Special thanks to my beta, Shannon aka queenb23. Without her there'd be a lot more commas and confusion. I'm hoping not going to upset too many shippers with this story. This is both Harry/Ginny and Draco/Ginny. And then again, it's neither Harry/Ginny nor Draco/Ginny. This will get clearer as the story progresses and I hope to appeal to both shippers. This is my first time venturing away from a ship that isn't mine, so I would greatly appreciate criticism on this story from both set of shippers. Thanks for reading.**   


* * *

Chapter One. Where’d You Go?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot. Even the title is credited to Fort Minor, while everything else goes to JKR.

_I want you to know it's a little messed up,_

_That I'm stuck here waitin', no longer debatin',_

_Tired of sittin' and hatin' and makin' these excuses,_

_For why you're not around, and feeling so useless,_

_It seems one thing has been true all along,_

_You don't really know what you got 'til it's gone,_

_I guess I've had it with you and your career,_

_When you come back I won't be here and you can sing it..._

—Fort Minor, “Where’d You Go?”

In the end, it came down to a battle of wills. It was a battle that raged more within herself than with Harry. Her mind reviewed their relationship and everything that was said between them at the funeral. Her mind knew that Harry was right, that she would become a target, and that they would both be better off staying away from each other.

Her heart had other things to say. It remembered the good weeks, the years of longing and the happiness of it all. She remembered feeling like the luckiest girl in the world, like she was invincible.

To have wanted him for so many years and then finally be able to call him hers, just to have him snatched away was perhaps the cruelest thing that could happen to a person. She understood his noble intentions, but it had still hurt like hell. She was actually more than a little glad that he hadn’t come to the Burrow right after summer holidays started, and even glad that he took Ron with him. It gave her plenty of time to think and reflect.

To get through those hard times of the summer, Ginny drew on her strength and calm from the funeral. She felt resigned and proud at the same time.

She tried very hard to give him up, and she was very prepared to see him by the time he, Ron and Hermione came to the Burrow for the wedding. But all that was pretty much shot when she actually _saw_ him.

In an instant, Ginny remembered every single reason why she loved him. And though she knew his reasons for breaking up with her were more than valid, she couldn’t see why they shouldn’t have just one summer together.

“ _Just one,” she whispered to him at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She had been dancing with Ron, and Harry with Hermione until Ron and Hermione had decided to “trade partners.” Next thing she knew, she was dancing in Harry’s arms. It wasn’t something she much minded._

“ _What do you mean?” he asked her._

“ _I want just one summer with you. I respect your decision for breaking up with me, and I would never want to put either of us in danger. But I’m not quite ready to give you up yet,” she said, leaning on his shoulder as they swayed to the slow music. Perhaps the magic of the moment had swept her away and she was being utterly foolish. Or perhaps she was right and they didn’t have to end things just yet. She was probably the fool for thinking things could be picture perfect, but she preferred to call herself optimistic._

“ _I can’t,” he said tightly. “I shouldn’t even be dancing with you right now. You’re one of my biggest weaknesses, and I can’t let_ him _know that. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you because of me. Can you understand that, Gin?”_

“ _Of course I can understand it. I’ve_ been _understanding it. What I’m having a hard time doing is accepting it. All my life people have been trying to tell me what to do because they think they know what’s best for me. But they don’t. Only I know what I want and need, and that’s you,” she said fiercely._

“ _God, Gin, I need you too. More than you could ever know. I think I had some of my happiest moments with you.”_

“ _Me too.”_

They made no decisions, no promises. But with all the things that were never said, she felt them in her heart. She actually liked that they made no real commitments because it meant they had no expectations to live up to. It was a time Ginny would remember for the rest of her life.

They had a lazy, almost carefree summer. Almost

Ginny knew that no matter what else lay between them, it was her friendship with him that made all the difference. Even when he tried to shut her out, she wouldn’t let him.

“ _You know that it’s okay to talk about it, right?” she said to him, startling him from one of his brooding funks one day. He was sitting alone in the dark in Fred and George’s room, which probably wasn’t a very good idea anyway. Even though he tried his hardest to be light, especially with her, he was moody and distant with everyone since they had arrived. Maybe everybody else could treat him with kid gloves, but there was no damned way that she would do it._

“ _Talk about what?” he asked in a voice slightly scratchy voice, either from hours of disuse or from attempting to cover up that he had been crying._

_Ginny closed the door behind her with a soft click. She quietly walked over, sat down opposite him, and leaned forward so that they were face to face._

“ _You know,” she said, taking his hand. Even in the dark, she could sense his discomfort from the physical contact. She refused to let go._

“ _What’s there to say? He’s dead. He left me when I needed him the most. And it was all for nothing. For nothing, Gin! He died for nothing!” He was shaking his head and ran his free hand through his hair. Despite her surprise at his sudden outbreak, she didn’t let it show and just continued to caress his hand._

“ _Tell me.”_

_Ginny could see that he was clearly having a hard time with whatever he was trying to say and took pity on him. She got up and joined him on the bed, putting her arm around his shoulders. More than anything, she wanted him to know that she was there for him, no matter what. They were friends first and foremost, and she never wanted that to change._

_Next to her, she felt him take a deep, steadying breath. “It’s okay,” she whispered to him._

“ _It’s just that…okay, me and Dumbledore were working on something very important, and when he died, it was left unfinished. Now it’s up to me to get it done if I ever want to finish this thing with Voldemort.”_

“ _Wow,” she said. “I never knew you had so much on your plate.” Her heart warmed for this boy who practically had the weight of the world on his shoulders._

“ _It’s okay,” he said and shrugged. “I can handle it. I just need to know that you’re safe because I can’t afford any distractions,” he said, moving even closer to her._

“ _I won’t be,” she said in his ear, while thoroughly distracting him anyway for entirely different reasons._

“Hermione, you are indeed a very special girl.”

“What?” She looked up, startled from her book. Both Ginny and Hermione were lounging in her room (well Ginny was anyway; she wasn’t sure if Hermione ever actually “lounged”), reading. The major difference was that she was reading _Witch Weekly_ while Hermione was studying from some huge tome that looked mind-numbingly boring. She knew that she could _never_ study like that over the summer.

“Is this some sort of declaration? Because I’ll be honest with you, Ginny. I think I’ve had enough of them for one week.”

Ginny’s eyes widened and she laughed. “Where did that come from?”

Hermione sighed and stuck a bookmark in her book. “Ron,” she said simply.

“Ah. So I see my prat of a brother finally spoke up, eh?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling faintly and with a subtle hidden glow. Ginny recognized it because she saw it within herself.

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah.”

“Because I’m not sure if any of us could take the two of you _not_ together, anymore. Quite frankly, you were driving us barmy with all the bickering.”

“Mean…” Hermione said with a slight pout, though Ginny knew she didn’t take her seriously. It always amused her to see Hermione in a playful mood.

“But true.”

Well…yes,” she conceded with a smile.

“Hermione!” Harry said as he burst in the room, effectively scaring the two girls senseless.

They both jumped up. “What is it?” Hermione asked frantically.

“It’s time. I’ve been getting twinges in my head, and I know he’s up to something, and I think I know where—” But he stopped suddenly when he noticed that Ginny was in the room. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” she said sarcastically. “What am I doing in my own room? And it’s time for what?”

“Never mind that. Where’s Ron? We’ve put this off for as long as possible.”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Hermione said uneasily. “Harry, are you sure—?”

“No, Hermione! We all agreed that when I said it’s time to go, then we leave. And it’s time to go.”

“You’re leaving?” Ginny asked. She felt as if she had just been punched – hard – in the stomach.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go get Ron,” Hermione said quietly and slipped out of the room.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She felt a tear start to roll down her cheek and stubbornly swiped it away. She absolutely _refused_ to cry right now.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted to tell you, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t want my upcoming departure to be looming over our heads. I just wanted to have some time with you, just one damned summer! Why does he have to take everything away from me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, genuinely meaning it.

“You shouldn’t be,” he said bitterly. “This is his fault. And I’ve got to stop this. You didn’t understand before, but do you understand now?”

“It’s not that I didn’t understand, I just didn’t want to accept it.”

“And do you accept it now?” he said warily, running his hands through his hair.

“I wish you could tell me more, and I don’t want you to go, but I accept it. God, Harry, I love you.”

Ginny threw herself into his arms and desperately attacked his lips with hers.

“I love you too,” he said hard on her mouth. “I love you so much.” Harry placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “But I can’t ask you to wait for me, you know.”

“What do you mean? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll wait for you.”

Harry shook his head fervently. “I have no idea when, or if, I’ll be back.”

“Don’t say that!”

“I’ve got to be realistic, Gin! There’s no denying how dangerous my mission is, and I don’t want you pining for me your whole life.”

“I don’t _pine_ , Potter,” she said fiercely, poking him hard in the chest. _Not anymore, at least._ “And I won’t need to. I have faith that you’ll do what you need to do and still come back to me.”

“You know I’ll do everything in my _power_ to come back to you, right?” Harry pulled her against him while absently rubbing the spot she had poked.

“Of course I do,” she said, muffled against his chest. She had to admit, it did feel nice and comforting to just be in his arms. She felt very feminine and loved, but not helpless.

“But I won’t make any promises that I’m not certain I’ll be able to keep.”

“Then let _me_ make all the promises,” she insisted. “I promise that I’ll be waiting for you when you get back, whenever that may be. And I’ll love you just as much as I do now.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything at all. Your heart says it for you.”

They stood in silence for a little while more. Ginny was determined to savor those last few moments as best she could. Finally, there was a quiet knock on the door, and Ron and Hermione poked their heads in.

“Harry, if we’re going, then we have to go now,” Hermione said.

“I know,” he said gruffly.

Ginny came forward and enveloped Hermione in a hug. She would miss her very much. She was like the sister that Ginny had grown up without.

Stepping away from Hermione, she noticed Ron standing in the doorway and watching the two of them. By this point, the tears were running profusely down Ginny’s face. It had only just struck her that Ron was a man now. Ron, the most temperamental, self-conscious prat of all her brothers. The one she had spent the most time with growing up, the one always ready to defend her with neighborhood bullies (and sometimes vice-versa). The one closest to her in age and the one she would miss the most. Her brother, Ron, the one who would make a difference. Ginny felt a rush of pride for her brother that she had rarely ever felt before.

She looked into his eyes and whispered, “I love you, Ron.”

Years of hurt, revenge, and neglect were erased with those simple words.

“I love you too, Ginny.” He caught her in an one-armed hug, and they quickly pulled away, not used to such open affection. “Now let’s go before I puke from all this lovey-dovey nonsense, please?”

“Oh honestly, Ron! You’re such an insensitive boor!” Hermione scolded in a hushed tone as she ushered him out the door. She knew that they couldn’t risk waking anybody up for fear of getting caught and questioned. Ginny inwardly gulped at having to face her mum’s reaction all alone.

Harry was the last one to the door. He came forward and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth before vanishing out the door without exchanging any more words. Ginny knew it was for the best.

She took a minute or two to compose herself before she went to the window and looked out. The three of them made their way down the road and past the Anti-Apparation ward. Ron and Hermione disappeared on the spot while Harry gave one last look at the house. Their gazes sought each other out for one brief instant before he too Disapparated without a backward glance.

Ginny suddenly realized that that may have been the last time she would ever see her boyfriend, her brother, or best friend again. She knew that despite everyone’s best intentions, one or all of them might not make it out of this alive. The three people that meant the most to her in the world had left her almost without a trace. There was nothing she could do to change that. The very thought drove her to fling herself onto the bed in a fit of despair.

And for the first time in many years, Ginny sobbed.

**Author's Note:** Special thanks to my betas, Shannon aka queenb23 and Indie. The shipping lines are a little blurry in this story and yet I hope it appeals to a variety of shippers. Thanks for reading!


	2. Excuses

  
Author's notes: Thanks to my betas, Shannon and Indie!  


* * *

**Chapter Two. Excuses**

 

_“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.”_

—Ambrose Redmoon

 

Ginny awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. After having cried herself to sleep, she also found her hair matted to her cheeks from tears and sweat. There was some sort of odd crust around her nose, and her eyes felt puffy and itchy. Her limbs were twisted in an uncomfortable position from where she had thrown herself last night and never moved. And upon slowly sitting up, she painfully discovered a crick in her neck. _If I had to wake up like this, I should have at least indulged in a bottle of Firewhiskey last night. Same results, but I might have been spared remembering_ why _I drank myself into a stupor._  
 

Ginny dragged herself out of the bed and pointedly ignored the mirror, which was tsking at her. Scowling, she trudged to the bathroom in silence, hoping to avoid any confrontations before she was ready for them; not that she ever would be. But since she eventually would have to face the powerhouse that was her mother, she didn’t want to do it looking like a Blast-Ended Screwt had given her a run for her money. 

As she quietly closed the bathroom door, she reflected on how things felt different already. Usually, Hermione was already up and in the bathroom, no matter how early Ginny rose. Not that it was ever that early anyway. 

She also noticed that all of their toothbrushes were missing. A small thing, really, but she felt the loss anyway. There were three empty spots in the holder just as there were now three empty spots in her life. 

After taking a shower and putting on some fresh clothes, Ginny felt a little better. At least physically. Mentally, she was reeling. Not only were they gone, but she would now have to be the one to explain it. As she went downstairs to the smell of bacon, her stomach was doing cartwheels. Just the sight of at her mother at the stove invoked more than a little apprehension into her. She started to just turn around and head back upstairs when she met her father on the stairs. 

“Good morning, Ginny,” he said with a smile. “Where are you off to? Usually food, if nothing else, is the only thing that keeps you and Ron in the kitchen.” 

“Er…I was just going upstairs to…get a hair tie. Yes, to get a hair tie. It was falling in my face,” she said, feeling completely idiotic. 

However her father accepted that and said, “Okay. But hurry back.” And he slipped into the kitchen and started to set the table. 

“Ginny, dear? Is that you?” 

“Yes Mum!”

“Are you coming down?” 

“She’s going to get a hair tie. I swear, you girls and your silly ornaments,” her father said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. 

Molly swung around with the spatula still in one hand and another on her hip. “If I remember correctly, you were always buying me ‘silly ornaments’ when we first started dating. You didn’t seem to mind them so much then.” 

“Um…” Arthur murmured. 

Ginny walked into the kitchen with a small smile on her lips. She couldn’t help but admire her mum’s unquestioned authority and power. Molly could make her grown sons and husband cower before her, having the unique ability to render a person senseless with one glance. Despite her own slight fear of her mother, she recognised that she could do far worse than having Molly Weasley as a mother and role model. 

‘“Don’t say another word,” she warned her husband. “Or you’ll end up in a place you _really_ do not want to be.” 

“Yes, love,” he said quietly, returning to the task of setting the table. 

“Morning, Mum,” Ginny said, faking her usual morning brightness that she in no way felt today. However, she made the decision to pretend blissful ignorance as long as possible. _It’s probably better this way anyway_ , she thought. _It’s hardly my fault that they left, so why have all the blame directed at me when there was nothing I could do to stop them from leaving?_   


She didn’t want to believe herself a coward, but she knew that no amount of logic could change the fact that she, indeed, was one. 

“Oh, good morning, Ginny. Wake your brother up, will you? I want to take just him shopping today. I can’t remember the last time we’ve spent time together. Besides, he’ll be glad for some new robes, right, Arthur?” 

He looked at her eagerly, clearly happy that her previous anger at him had passed. “For sure. That boy has outgrown his robes _again_.” 

As her mother was tipping scrambled eggs onto a platter and her father was filling cups with orange, and they both talked about their youngest son, Ginny realized in a sudden horror that the news would break their hearts. Their boy, off on a dangerous adventure with nothing but his two best friends and courage. And for them, no contact, no reassurance. Just the unending pain and fear of never knowing if they would see him again. Whatever Ginny was feeling, it would impact them one hundred times more. And at least Ginny had the benefit of a goodbye. They would have nothing but their last, unresolved memories. 

She then knew that there was no way she could go through the motions of pretending to find empty beds and absent notes that didn’t exist. She would inform them of the truth. It was the least she owed them.

Ginny took a deep breath and said, “I have something I need to tell you.” 

At her declaration, her parents looked up at her with apprehension. Those words usually never preceded good news. 

“Yes?” her father asked hesitantly, and for once, Mrs. Weasley stopped all movement in the kitchen. They knew after raising seven children that if one of them said they needed to talk, it was best to just listen. _Whatever they’re expecting, it probably doesn’t even_ touch _what I’m going to tell them._  
 

But before she could even begin to form her words, there were two loud cracks, one right after the other that startled them all. Ginny was dismayed to see the smiling faces of the twins in front of them. If there was ever a time (and in truth, there were many times) when the twins’ humour was not needed, _this_ was it. Everybody felt the tension in the air – everybody except for Fred and George, of course. 

“Good day, lovely family!” Fred exclaimed.

“Look Fred, breakfast! They must’ve known we were coming.” And with that, they both sat down in the nearest chairs and helped themselves to the food, completely oblivious to the blank stares of their family.

“It’s okay. It’s not like any of us had started already, you know. Go ahead and help yourselves,” Ginny said acidly. 

“Cheerful as ever, dear sister,” said George, toast crumbs littering his face. 

“Really, you two!” Mrs. Weasley fussed and swiped at the mess they were making. 

“Uh, boys? This might not be the best time to visit right now. Ginny was just about to have a discussion with us,” said Mr. Weasley, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You’re finally going to tell them about the sex change procedure then? Good for you, Gin!” Fred said and smiled innocently at her. 

“Just go already!” 

“Fine then!” they both said in a mock huff and made a show of getting from their chairs in indignation. “We can see where we’re not wanted,” George added. “I always knew we were just next-door neighbours.” 

George Apparated first while Fred stayed to say, “I heard through the grapevine that McGonagall has something important to tell the Order. That is, if you’re not too busy throwing family out the house to hear it.” And then, he too Apparated away. 

Ginny sighed and sat down at the table, motioning for her parents to follow suit. If anything, Fred and George’s visit had only served to make her feel worse. Feeling like she was at the brink of tears, Ginny finally blurted, “Harry, Ron and Hermione are gone!” 

“WHAT!” Her parents exploded at the same time. 

“What do you mean they’re gone?” Her father asked. 

She could barely get her voice under control and had a hard time speaking the words. “They all left last night, and…I don’t know where they went, and…and…I don’t know when they’re coming back. If they…if they even come back at all. And I know I should have told you last night, and…and I’m sorry!” 

Ginny jumped out of her chair, tipping it over. She flung herself across the table and into her mother’s arms. More than anything, she wanted her mother’s love, affection and forgiveness. And she wanted her mum to tell her it would all be okay. 

She sat in her mother’s lap crying as if she were a child again and was rocked back and forth while her mother comforted her. “My baby,” she whispered. 

“I’m so sorry, Mum!” 

Arthur was still sitting across the table, shocked. He hadn’t said a word yet, hadn’t moved an inch. 

“I just didn’t know what to do!” Ginny insisted. “They said it was important, and Harry needed me to be strong, and I said I’d wait for him. And Ron never looked so brave before. I couldn’t stop them. I wasn’t able to.” 

She knew she was rambling but didn’t much care. She had bottled herself up the whole night, which was hard for her. She was a Weasley and used to expressing her feelings. 

“We need to alert the Order,” her father said suddenly. He abruptly got up from his chair and strode towards the fireplace. “Someone needs to start looking for them.” 

“Dad, no,” Ginny croaked from her mother’s lap. “I didn’t tell you so they could be found. I told you because you had to know.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have let them go in the first place! If you had told us last night, we wouldn’t have to go through this right now. If you had been thinking with your brain instead of your heart…” 

He broke off and shook his head. Ginny didn’t know what to say. Rarely in her life had her dad ever yelled at her. Her mum was usually the disciplinarian, her dad the consoler. Now the roles were completely reversed, and she didn’t know what to do or say. Her father’s anger was what made her hurt the most. 

“Look where doing things your way have gotten us,” he said tightly. “Now we’re going to do them my way.” 

“Arthur!” 

“You know I’m right, Molly. That boy is like a son to me, but look where he’s lead them – Ron to his death, and Ginny to a broken heart.” 

“That’s not true!” The two Weasley women exclaimed at the same time and stood up. 

“I’ve raised my son well,” Molly said proudly. “I raised him to do what is right, no matter what. I may not like the way he went about it, and there’s going to be hell for him to pay when he gets back. But the important thing is that he _is_ coming back, and I’d better not ever hear you say otherwise, Arthur Weasley!” Her hands were on her hips, and she was looking as fierce as Ginny had ever seen her. Her mum gave her hope and courage. 

“And Harry did not break my heart. I chose to wait for him because I know what he’s doing is right and important and what will one day save us all. He needs to know that he’s loved and has something to come back to. But what he wants more than anything is something we’ve taken for granted our whole lives; family. I thought you understood that, Dad.” 

“I do,” he said sadly, hanging his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what made me say those things. I’m just…I’m just scared for them, you know? I was looking for someone to blame, and that wasn’t right. I just wish this all was over.” 

“Oh, Arthur,” Molly said softly while walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Ginny put her arms around her dad and silently intimated to him that she understood. She more than understood. 

The second crack of the morning startled them even more than the first. They sprung away from each other, embarrassed, and unable to look in Minerva McGonagall’s stern face. 

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something,” she said. She too was looking awkward. 

“It’s fine,” Molly said, going back to preparing breakfast and washing dishes as if nothing had been out of the ordinary. 

“It’s actually good that you’re here,” her father said. “We have something we need to discuss with you.” He caught Ginny’s eye as if to reassure her that he was on her side. She appreciated the gesture. 

“I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait for a moment. I’ve just received some bad news.” 

“What is it?” Ginny asked grimly. More bad news? How much were they expected to take? 

“Hogwarts has been closed for good,” McGonagall said firmly. “From now on, any magical instruction is to take place at home.” 

“My God,” Mrs. Weasley said softly and sank down into her chair. “I never thought I’d see the day when Hogwarts would actually close down.” 

“Me neither,” Ginny added sadly. The world around them really _was_ changing, and there seemed like less and less that she was able to do about it. 

McGonagall sighed and continued, “There’s more.” 

“More?” her father asked incredulously, mirroring her thoughts.

“I’m afraid so. There’s been a death, though not on our side. Last night—” 

But before she could finish, there was an interruption of an odd scratch at the door. It almost sounded to Ginny like a feeble, dying cat searching for shelter. She took sympathy on it and opened the door without thinking. 

“What are you doing?” Someone shouted behind her. 

On the doorstep was not a dying cat, but a human. And the very _last_ person she _ever_ expected to see at the Burrow. 


	3. Veritaserum

Chapter Three

 

 

 

"Loyalty is still the same,  
whether it win or lose the game;  
True as a dial to the sun,  
although it be not shined upon."

—Samuel Butler, Hudibras, 1663

 

 

 

Ginny couldn’t believe her eyes. If Merlin himself had come knocking on her door, she would have been less surprised.

 

“Stand back, Miss Weasley!” Professor McGonagall called sharply. Instinctively, she leaped back and out of the way. McGonagall slowly came forward with her wand drawn and a look on her face that she couldn’t explain.

 

Not only was it very surprising just to see him here, his state was also surrounded by mystery. Almost dead on the ground, barely breathing and bruised. She had never imagined she would see him like this. To be honest, she never thought much about him at all. In fact, the last time she even thought about him, she was feeling the same way she was feeling now: sympathetic.

 

“Help,” Draco Malfoy croaked.

 

*** 

 

_“And did I ever tell you about the time…?”_

 

_“Yes! You’ve told me! Probably twice by now.”_

 

_“He really_ is _a despicable person,” Harry informed her. They were lounging by the lake, watching the ducks swim by. It was one of those rare times they were allowed out the house. It was just too hot to stay indoors. The kind of unbearable heat that even the best Cooling Charms couldn’t fix._

 

_“I know,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve only been saying it all summer. And Ron’s been saying it for six years.”_

 

_“I’m sorry,” he said with a small smile. He put her arm around her and pulled her closer to him. These were the kind of days she loved, these lazy summer days. Lying by the lake, talking about anything and everything with a cold pitcher of pumpkin juice on the side. Sometimes, like today, they talked about serious things such as war and life in general. And other times they talked about silly things or her childhood. He especially liked to hear about what she was like when she was little. She hated how he was treated like utter crap as a child. If she ever saw those sorry excuses for relatives, she wouldn’t hesitate to give them a piece of_ her _mind._

 

_“It’s just that I hate them so much, Gin. Between Snape and Malfoy…”_

 

_“Snape’s a greasy git, I agree,” she said._

 

_“And Malfoy isn’t? Harry asked abruptly. He untangled his arm from her and sat up._

 

_“Not really. I would say he’s more slimy than anything. A distinct difference, I would say.”_

 

_“Oh, what a laugh you are,” he said sarcastically, laughing and sliding on top of her._

 

_“I can be more than funny,” she whispered._

 

_“I know.”_

 

_And yet, even as they distracted themselves in the afternoon heat, Ginny couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for Malfoy. True, he was a horrible person who did horrible things. But he also had a hard life in a different way than Harry had a hard life. It was something she would never voice, and she knew she was a bit too compassionate for her own good. Ginny shrugged it aside, knowing that whatever Malfoy had done, he would have to answer for it, and it had nothing to do with her…_

 

***

 

“What the hell is he doing here?” her dad asked, mirroring her thoughts.

 

“Get Alastor, and hurry!” McGonagall ordered.

 

Her father Disapparated and Apparated again a few moments later with Moody.

 

“Good God, this boy isn’t even supposed to be alive!” McGonagall exclaimed.

 

“Exactly,” Moody growled. He pointed his wand at Malfoy, who was instantly tied up and unconscious.

 

“You can’t do that!” Ginny said. “Don’t you see what condition he’s in?”

 

“What do you mean that he’s supposed to be dead?” her mother asked.

 

“That’s what I was about to tell you before the interruption. We received news of his death just an hour ago—”

 

“Which is why his sudden arrival seems so suspicious. Do you have the Veritaserum, Minerva?” asked Moody.

 

“Right here,” she said, pulling a small vial of clear liquid out of her robes.

 

“But I don’t understand…” her mother persisted.

 

“Neither do we,” McGonagall said shortly as she and Moody propped him up in a chair. “That’s what the Veritaserum is for.”

 

“But—”

 

“Just let them to it, Molly,” her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This is the best way to comprehend what’s going on.”

 

“Oh, fine,” she yielded. “Ginny, up to your room.”

 

“No way, Mum! I’m staying right here,” Ginny said fiercely.

 

“Ginny, you’ll do as I say,” she said in a tone that bid no argument.

 

Her father sighed. “Let her stay, dear. It can’t hurt her any. She’s just as involved as the rest of us.” 

 

“Can we get on with this?” Moody growled.

 

“You and I will have a talk later, young lady,” her mother said angrily and glared at her.

 

“I look forward to it,” Ginny inaudibly mumbled.

 

Moody tilted Malfoy’s head back and took the vial of serum from McGonagall. Ginny was able to get a good look at Malfoy’s face; his lips were cracked and peeling, his nose looked broken, both eyes were swollen, puffy and highly discoloured – one was black, the other a rather disgusting shade of purple. There was also a long and deep gash on one side of his face, going from his temple down to his cheek, and a number a bruises covered his face.  He was barely recognisable. And yet she had been able to tell who he was immediately just from his unmistakable blond hair and those cold grey eyes.

 

However, the haughty demeanour was completely absent. He looked every inch like a lost and desperate little boy. Whatever had happened to him, it was bad. That he had been tortured was clear, and not just from his face. Malfoy’s breathing was laboured, suggesting a few broken ribs. Many bruises, barely healed scars and fresh wounds were spread out all over his body. It looked like just one more injury would do him in. She had never seen even Harry looking this bad. He must have been desperate indeed to come to the Weasleys for help.

 

“Bottoms up,” Moody sneered as he forced Malfoy’s mouth open and poured a few drops of the clear liquid inside. Closing his mouth, Moody revived him, and Malfoy opened his eyes. His face went slack and his gaze was unfocused.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, can you understand me?” McGonagall asked sharply.

 

“Yes,” he said clearly.

 

“Then tell me what exactly happened after you left Hogwarts with Severus Snape,” she said, staring at him intently. 

 

Moody conjured another two chairs and sat in one, leaving the other one for McGonagall to sit in. She waved it away to the corner, and Moody shrugged. Ginny’s father was rubbing his chin with one hand and consoling his wife’s back with the other.

 

“I want to know everything,” she added.

 

Malfoy began to speak in an expressionless tone. “When we left Hogwarts, Snape Apparated us to the Dark Lord’s hideout. I was confused because it was a different place from before.”

 

“Before what?” 

 

“From when I saw him before school started last year. When he gave me my assignment that I failed.” Ginny noticed a change in his voice, but when he started talking again, it was back to normal.

 

“What was the other place?”

 

There was a trace of his old hoity self in his voice when he said, “Some smelly old house that hadn’t been cleaned in ages. It was a Muggle house, so I didn’t pay much attention to it. It was big, though.”

 

“That would be the Riddle House,” McGonagall muttered.

 

“No wonder Albus had us search it. But why would You-Know-Who stay there when he knew we would know about it?”

 

“It was a trap,” Malfoy said, his voice flat again. “He wanted to lure the Order out of hiding. When it didn’t work, he must have moved on.”

 

“Where was the new hideout?” McGonagall asked, her lips pursed.

 

“I don’t know,” he said and shrugged. “I don’t think we were even in Britain anymore. It was hot, and there were a lot of strange trees around. They took me into some abandoned building and told me to wait inside a room. They locked the door and put somebody on guard.”

 

He stopped talking and got such an odd look on his face. Ginny could only describe it as a mix of fear and pain.

 

“What happened next, boy?” Moody growled.

 

He took a shuddering breath and said, “I saw the Dark Lord for the first time. He told me how he was disappointed in me. He told me he would kill me for my failure. But first, he would torture me.”

 

Ginny felt a strange, sick feeling in her stomach and felt as if she would retch. She could see similar expressions on her parents’ faces.

 

“Did he?” Moody asked, though Ginny was confused because she thought it was painfully obvious that he had.

 

“No,” Malfoy said, almost bitterly. She suspected the potion prevented the person from displaying the true extent of their feelings so as not to cloud the truth. “He made Crabbe and Goyle do it, to teach them what happens to disobedient servants. Then he ordered Snape to heal me a little every night to keep me alive. And then they would do it all again. I got weaker by the day.”

 

“Why would he do that?” Her mother interrupted, with a look of pain on her face. Ginny knew how she felt about children and pain, no matter who they were or what they had done. Even Ginny was actually feeling pity for Malfoy, as sorry as she sometimes felt for Harry. The only difference was that Harry deserved foul treatment far less than Malfoy did. She felt horrible for even comparing the two of them. 

 

For the thousandth time, she wondered where Harry was and what was he doing. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Remembering how they parted, Ginny had no doubt about it.

 

“He wanted me to suffer. He killed my mother in front of me, too.”

 

“And this went on all summer?” McGonagall asked.

 

“Yes. Then last night, he learned that Hogwarts wouldn’t be opening again. He was happy and knew it was time to go to the next location. He told Snape to kill me because he had broken me enough and had no more use for me.”

 

Ginny gasped. “That’s why he was happy last night!” she exclaimed.

 

“What are you on about, Miss. Weasley?”

 

“Last night, when Harry came into our room and told us that You-Know-Who was really happy about something.” And all it had been was Hogwarts closing down. She was certain that whatever Harry, Ron and Hermione had to do, the school closing wasn’t related to it. _He didn’t have to leave_ , Ginny thought dejectedly. _Or at least not right away…_

 

“Where is Mr. Potter, anyway? I would have thought he would want to see this.” Moody asked. By the look on McGonagall’s face, it had obviously also just dawned on her that he was missing.

 

“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” her father said. “Harry, Ron and Hermione left last night.”

 

“What do you mean, they left? Where would they go?”

 

“We don’t know,” Ginny said quietly. “They didn’t tell me, and they don’t want to be found.”

 

“This is ridiculous. Of course they have to be found. Three teenagers roaming around with apparently only half a brain between them. What were they thinking? We have to tell Kingsley.”

 

Ginny knew she would have to dissuade somebody against it for the second time that day and dreaded it. It was turning out to be an interesting morning, that was for sure.

 

“I know this is hard to accept,” she started. “And believe me, I want nothing more for them to come home safely and stay here. But they have something important to do, something bigger than all of our wishes. As much as we might want to stop them, we can’t. It would be our own undoing.”

 

“And just what is this thing that’s so important?” McGonagall said coldly.

 

Ginny gulped. “I don’t exactly know. I think they thought it would be safer if they didn’t tell me.”

 

“So we’re just supposed to let them blindly go off without even knowing what they’re doing? Without any way to even contact them?”

 

“Yes,” Arthur solemnly answered for her. “Yes we are.”

 

“And you actually agree to this, Molly?” she asked, turning to Ginny’s mum.

 

There were a few tears running down her face. Ginny knew how scared she was and how much strength it took for her to say, “I do.” She admired her mum that much more for it.

 

“Well then…” McGonagall said, clearly at a loss for words.

 

“If we’ve considered the matter settled, I’d like to get back to the questioning, if that’s all right with you lot?” Moody asked impatiently. She liked how he was never one to worry or second-guess. If Harry, Ron and Hermione said they could handle themselves, then he accepted that and moved on.

 

“Right then,” McGonagall said briskly. “Where was I? Oh yes. How did you end up here?” she said, addressing Malfoy again.

 

“Snape didn’t want to kill me, so he gave me a potion to drink that made me unconscious. He loaded me in a small crate and Banished me away.”

“Where did you end up?”

 

“In the middle of a field. Then I came here.”

 

“Why did you come here, to the Burrow?”

 

“Snape told me to picture an ugly, lopsided, run-down house, and that would be the only place I could find safety. I tried to Apparate here, but I was too weak to be accurate. I saw the house Snape told me about in the distance, and it took me all night to get here.”

 

“Snape told him to come here!” her mother exploded. “I don’t believe it. How dare he!”

 

“Calm down, Molly,” her father said, though absently because he looked outraged himself.

 

“What do we do now?” Ginny asked.

 

“I don’t know,” McGonagall confessed. Sometimes it was still surprising for Ginny to hear adults admit they didn’t have all the answers. 

 

“If we put him out, then his death is on our hands,” Moody stated. “And if we keep him, we put our own lives in danger.”

 

“Snape knows he’s here,” her father agreed. “He can also use that against us whenever he wants to.”

 

“He won’t,” Ginny assured them. “Not now that his own arse is on the line. That bastard spared Malfoy. Spared Malfoy but killed Dumbledore…”

 

“Ginny!” Her mother scolded.

 

Ginny ignored her, getting back to the point she was trying to make. “If You-Know-Who finds out, he’ll be dead for sure.”

 

They all pondered that for a moment. “The girl’s right,” Moody said finally. “But how do we know he won’t try to go back?”

 

“Ask him,” she said and shrugged. “He is, after all, under Veritaserum.”

 

“Will you go back, boy?” Moody demanded of him. “Will you try and escape?”

 

“No,” Malfoy answered in a monotonous voice. “There’s nothing for me there. They’ll kill me. At least here I have a chance at survival, even though I loathe the Weasleys.”

 

“Hmm. I guess that’ll have to do,” McGonagall said stiffly. “But he can’t stay here. I think you will have to relocate to Headquarters for now. That would be safest, I believe.”

 

Her parents agreed. While the rest of them discussed the details, Ginny suddenly wanted to ask him something. They were distracted and weren’t paying either of them a bit of mind. Harry had told her of Malfoy’s indecision that night, and she wanted to know where he stood.

 

Ginny crouched down and asked him in a intent whisper, “Where do your loyalties lie?”

 

“Myself,” he said firmly and with a determination that shone through even more brighter than the fear had.

 

That was exactly the answer she expected him to give. It’s what she would have said if she were him.

 

 


	4. And The Game Begins

Chapter Four. And The Game Begins

 

 

 

_The conflict of forces and the struggle of opposing wills are of the essence of our universe and alone hold it together._

_—_ Havelock Ellis

 

According to Madame Pomfrey, it was too dangerous to move Malfoy, so they had to stay at the Burrow for a few more days. In the meantime, her mother and father took it in turns to move their stuff to Grimmauld Place.

 

Ginny, however, was given the quite boring task of sitting in Percy’s room with Malfoy (rather ironic, she grimly thought) and watching over him. Madame Pomfrey said it was necessary to monitor his breathing and make sure it remained regulated.

 

Really, it was a very boring duty. For the first two days, he was still unconscious. Ginny had nothing to do but flip through magazines. She scoffed at her mother’s suggestion that she review through her schoolbooks to prepare for her coming home studies.

 

Being home-schooled made her sad. It reminded her of the days when most of her brothers were still at home. Ron was her constant companion. Fred and George played tricks on every single member of the family (some things never changed). And the bangs from their room! It got to the point where they all stopped investigating or even wondering about them anymore. Charlie would go on nature walks through the woods and always loved animals from the start. Ginny could remember him coming home with mud-splattered clothes and being scolded. Percy was never found without his nose in a book. Bill would come home for the summers, and they would all have a great time together.

 

Their mum would actually ban them to separate corners of the house, or sometimes outside. Together they would never get any schoolwork done. Ginny smiled at the memories of being home with her brothers.

 

It would be lonely by herself. She hadn’t been alone in the house since Ron left for Hogwarts. And now she wouldn’t even be home, she would be at gloomy Grimmauld Place in the middle of a war.

 

Ginny’s attention turned to the form stirring in the bed. It looked like he was finally waking. She set her magazine aside and walked over to him. His ice blond hair was tousled and in disarray. Though a lot of his wounds had healed, there were still a number covering his face and chest, meaning he had to remain shirtless, which was something Ginny found didn’t mind in the least. She had to admit, the boy was very easy on the eyes. His face was undeniably handsome and his body was very…toned. Ginny immediately felt a rush of shame and a heat covering her cheeks. What on earth had made her think _that_? Here she was admiring other boys’ chests while her boyfriend was out saving the world. _Get a grip_ , she told herself.

 

“Where am I?” he grumbled. His voice was hoarse, probably from the abuse. He was blinking and squinting as if to adjust his eyes to the light.

 

For some reason, she had the insane urge to smooth the hair away from his face. Considering all the pain he’d caused and the damage he had done, it was absurd that when she looked at him, she got a sense of almost innocence. Just the sickly mark on his forearm was enough to contradict that, and yet she felt it nonetheless. Until, that is…

 

“Oh hell, I’m at the damned Weasley dirt pile, aren’t I?” he said and rolled his eyes. He slowly sat up, took in his surroundings and scowled.

 

Any sympathetic feelings Ginny might have had flew out the window at his words, to be replaced by indignation. “Hey, I would watch it if I were you—!”

 

“Just be glad you’re not,” he said sullenly.

 

“Funny, I didn’t take you for the self-pitying type,” she said, crossing her arms and smirking. “Actually, when I think about it…”

 

“If you were me, then that would mean I would be you, _Weaslette_ ,” he spat.

 

“That’s very interesting,” Ginny said, smiling. “Considering I’m not the one who’s supposed to be dead.”

 

“But I’m not, so I win, Weaslette,” he said smugly.

 

“And why is that?” Ginny asked, actually curious as to why he thought he was superior to her. From her view, _she_ was in the enviable position.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” he scoffed. “I’m a Malfoy. I _always_ win.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” he said in a mocking tone.

 

“Well, the way I see it, you’re wrong,” she said simply.

 

“And how do you see it, Weaslette?” he asked, propping his pillow up and lying back against it. He also folded his arms behind, which only added fuel to her fire.

 

Ginny walked to the foot of the bed and leaned on the bedpost. She wanted him to have a clear view of her as she spoke. She vowed she would wipe the slimy grin – no, more of a leer, really – off his obnoxious face.

 

“I see it many ways,” she started. “For one thing, I have a family. And a family that loves me at that.”

 

“I don’t like what you’re saying—!”

 

“No, I expect you wouldn’t. Your father’s in Azkaban and would probably sell you to Satan himself to get out. Your mother might care about you, but only because she doesn’t have anyone else to care about.”

 

He didn’t deny it, and Ginny knew she was right. She didn’t quite get the satisfaction she thought she would, but she wouldn’t back down either. She had a point to prove.

 

“I, on the other hand, have a family that would do anything for me. And I for them. It’s what families do; they have each other’s backs. We may not have a lot of money, but we have love in abundance.”

 

“You sure have the money part down,” he sneered.

 

“I also have friends,” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything.

 

“I have friends too! You don’t even know me, who are you to say that, Weaslette?”

 

“I’m an observer, that’s who. You have people that follow you. They’re afraid of you because you have a father that bullies their fathers around. They know they have to give you some kind of respect. Don’t mistake that pathetic worship for friendship.”

 

“That translates to power, not that you would know anything about that. You’re listing a load of crap that doesn’t matter. _I_ have what matters.”

 

“You have nothing,” she said quietly. “Because most importantly, I know what love is, and you don’t.”

 

“And how would you know that?”

 

“That you don’t have it?”

 

“Yes – I mean no! I mean…”

 

“I just know,” she said simply. “I love Harry, and he loves me.”

 

“Potter? That fool?” He laughed. “And you call that winning?”

 

“Yes, I do,” she answered fiercely.

 

Ginny wouldn’t let the fact that he was belittling her love bother her. In fact, she almost felt sorry for him because he didn’t, and never would, have what she had.

 

Ginny stood up straight and headed towards the door. She had enough of him for a while. It was time to let somebody else deal with him. But before she left…

 

“And I still win, you know that, right?”

 

“Why? Because you have your precious love with precious Potter? No thanks, you can have it,” he said, shaking his head.

 

“No,” she said as she stood in the doorway with her hand on the knob. “Unlike you, I have a shirt on. And that automatically makes me the winner.”

 

Ginny left, laughing, after catching his shocked expression. She loved having the last word.

 

As she closed the door, a body crashed into her. Completely caught off guard, she stumbled to the ground and with Tonks on top of her.

 

“I’m _so_ sorry, Ginny!” Tonks exclaimed, scrambling off the ground and offering Ginny a hand.

 

“It’s okay,” Ginny murmured, still trying to catch her bearings. Apparently, Tonks had been on her way in as she was coming out. Neither of them had been paying attention, though that was nothing new for Tonks.

 

“What the hell was that?” Came a whine from Percy’s room. “What did you do now, Weaslette?”

 

“So I see my no-good cousin is finally awake, then?” Tonks said sarcastically. She swung the door open. To Ginny’s slight disappointment, he now had one of her brother’s old shirts covering his chest. She decided not to dwell on that.

 

Following Tonks into the room, she said, “Let’s get one thing straight.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve had enough of talking with you today – no, make that forever.”

 

Once again, Ginny continued on as if not hearing him, saying, “My name is not _Weaslette_. As much I don’t want to hear my name from your horrible lips, I would rather you call me by my name than _that_.”

 

“He calls you Weaslette?” Tonks laughed.

 

Ginny glared at her, and Tonks sobered up. “What I meant to say is that’s very immature of you, Draco. Show the girl a bit of respect.”

 

“And why should I?” he scoffed.

 

“Because you two are going to be working with each other for the next nine months, that’s why. You’ll be doing your schooling together.” 

 

“What!” They both exclaimed at once. Ginny didn’t particularly care for the grin on Tonks’ face.

 

You,” Tonks said to Malfoy and folding her arms. “Need to repeat your sixth year.”

 

“That’s not fair!”

 

“I think we both know it is,” Tonks said coolly.

 

Having Malfoy in the house was one thing. She imagined he would be condemned to one of Grimmauld Place’s more grim rooms; out of sight, out of mind. However, it was turning out that _she_ was the one being condemned. How had had life gone so wrong in the matter of a few days? 

 


	5. A Second-Hand Life

Chapter Five. A Second-Hand Life

 

 

_Jealousy is both reasonable and belongs to reasonable men, while envy is base and belongs to the base, for the one makes himself get good things by jealousy, while the other does not allow his neighbour to have them through envy._

—Aristotle

 

Ginny walked into Number 12 Grimmauld Place with no small amount of trepidation. The house was only slightly less grim than the last time she had been there, if only because it was a little cleaner. She supposed she had her mum to thank for that one. Their footsteps echoed ominously, and Ginny was suddenly very aware of just how empty the house was. Not only were they in such a depressing house that carried some sad memories, it would also be lonely with only the four of them, even with occasional visits from the Order.

 

“No need to be quiet,” Molly happily announced. “I believe Albus finally found a way to shut the old hag up.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Draco asked irritably, limping in after her father. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the cool late-September air.

 

“Why didn’t he do it before?” Ginny asked, completely disregarding him. Molly and Arthur turned to her, following her suit.

 

Her father shrugged. “Believe it or not, it was never really a top priority. It was always something that was meant to be done but just didn’t happen.”

 

“Oh,” Ginny said. “Well, that’s a relief then.” At least it would be one less thing to worry about.

 

“You have the same room from before, Ginny,” her mother said her. “And you can show…Draco to his room.”

 

“Which is it?”

 

“Harry and Ron’s old room, of course. They’ll hardly be needing it,” she said wryly as she headed away down the corridor towards the kitchen, Ginny’s father following after her.

 

“Perfect,” Malfoy muttered.

 

“Come on then,” Ginny sighed. She picked up her bags and started up the steps. She didn’t hear any footsteps behind her and noticed he wasn’t following.

 

“If you’re waiting for your special invitation, _that_ was it.”

 

“Aren’t you going to get my bags?” he asked arrogantly, pointing to them as if she were dumb.

 

“Do I look like a house-elf to you?”

 

“Well actually…” he smirked.

 

“Don’t say another word. If you want your bags brought up, you’ll bring them up your own damned self,” Ginny spat angrily and stalked up the steps.

 

She really despised him! How could one person spark so much fury in her? It was past time for him to learn that the world did _not_ revolve around him, and he would have to do things for himself and respect other people.

 

“I need help,” called a reluctant voice. “My arms are still really sore.”

 

Ginny felt an odd sensation in her stomach. She knew that it was partly guilt and a tad bit of embarrassment. She went downstairs for her slice of humble pie.

 

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she said quietly, genuinely meaning it. “I forgot.”

 

“It’s okay,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “I suppose I didn’t really want to ask for your help, and so I was rude to you instead.”

 

Ginny looked up in surprise. Was this his way in apologizing? Was he actually showing some vulnerability? And hold on – had she just called him by his first name?

 

“Not to mention I’m a little peeved that I get Potter’s leftover room,” he drawled, his icy demeanour back in place.

 

So was that how he was going to do it? Fine, two could play that game.

 

“You’d better get used to being in Harry’s shadow from now on. He is, after all, the hero.” And with that said, she hefted up his trunk and sauntered up the stairs once more.

 

 

 

***

It took almost no time for them all to settle into a routine. In the mornings, Mrs. Weasley cooked breakfast, and then Ginny and Draco would take it in turns doing the dishes. And to his credit, he did always get all the chores that he was assigned done, though he did them _very_ begrudgingly.

 

After breakfast, Mr. Weasley would head to work while the rest of them did school work. Mrs. Weasley taught a different subject each day and gave them Fridays and the weekends off.

 

Molly would then bustle off to other parts of the house and do either cleaning or what Ginny assumed was Order work. That left her and Malfoy to their own devices. She usually had nothing better to do than study or read. What Malfoy did in all his free time was beyond her, not that she particularly cared what.

 

As the lonely days of October crept by, Ginny turned more and more to writing letters. Writing had always been a release for her, and she loved being able to express all her feelings on paper, without fear of it judging her. She wrote things she wouldn’t get a chance to say, or at least not now:

 

_Dear Harry,_

_How’s life without me? Because I’m in hell without you. I miss you so much. I never thought I would be one of those girls that needed a guy in her life. But you’re not just any guy; you’re Harry. I love you with everything inside of me, and I know we have a great future together. I may have had a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived, but I fell in love with the person that you are._

_Love forever and always,_

_Ginny_

 

She wrote things she would never say to anybody:

 

_Dear Ron,_

_I know we haven’t had the best few years. I was so hurt when you neglected me at school, and for Harry no less. You abandoned me when I needed my big brother and best friend the most. I still love you very much, and I know we’ve moved past it, but I think a part of me won’t ever quite completely forgive you for it. We’re family and that comes above all things._

_But you know what? Even though you’re probably the biggest prat that ever lived, I still think I admire you above all the rest of my brothers. Bill and Charlie are brave and adventurous, true. But I don’t know them as well because they’re so much older than me, and they’re harder to relate to. Percy actually holds the title for biggest prat at the moment, so I suppose you get a reprieve on that one for now. Fred and George are brilliant, but I would certainly never want to be like them. You, on the other hand, are the one that will get the farthest of us all. You have a drive that I admire you for. Believe me, I know all your many faults. But despite them, I still want to be like you the most._

_Your sister,_

 

Ginny

 

Ron wasn’t the only one where she left things unsaid between them.

 

_Dear Hermione,_

_There used to be very few things I could stand about you. You stole my brother away from me. You were Harry’s best friend. You were the smartest witch in the whole school. The list goes on._

_And right when I was probably hating you the most, you reached out to me and became one of my dearest friends. I kind of hate myself for it now. Neither of us makes friends that easily, but because of you, I opened up to other people. I wish I were as good a friend as you are._

_I think it’s very ironic that the very person I used to dislike is now one of the people I can’t stand to live without. What can I say? You grew on me._

_Ginny_

 

And finally, there were the letters she never thought she would even _want_ to write. It was the letter that confused her the most.

 

_Draco,_

_Just who are you anyway? You’re not good, you’re not bad. You’re not light or dark. You’re not nice or evil. I can’t figure you out, and it bothers me. A lot._

_Do you even know who you are? You stand for nothing, and yet, I think there’s more to you than you let on. There’s a depth to you that I want to understand, but I’m scared. I’m afraid of what I’ll find._

_I wouldn’t ever tell you this, but I find you very intriguing. By nature I’m supposed to hate you. But by now, I’ve learned not to hate someone on principle alone. Just let me in and let me judge for myself. Besides, there’s nothing better to do…_

 

It was the only one of her letters that she didn’t sign. Besides those, she also wrote to her parents and other friends. The golden thing about pouring her heart out on paper was that she burned most of them after she was finished writing. It was liberating to say those things to herself, but she didn’t think she would ever actually say them aloud. It may have been cowardly, but it was better than keeping her emotions bottled inside, and _much_ better than writing them down in a diary.

 

It was on one of these boring October days that she decided to pay a visit on Draco – in her mind at least, they were past the formality and/or animosity of surnames.

 

“What do you want, Weasley?” he asked acidly, obviously not agreeing with her. Ginny had been knocking on his door for a full minute. She knew he was in there because she heard him moving around. Finally she had just decided to open the door without his invitation.

 

“I just wanted to see what you were doing,” she said with a smile as she came in his room. It was different from when Harry and Ron were staying there. The two beds were pushed together to make one big bed. _Typical_ , she thought sarcastically.

 

It was also very…clean. A lot cleaner than her room, at least. And there were no kind of personal affects on the walls or on the bedside table. No clothes thrown about on the floor or stuff hanging out the wardrobe. Perhaps part of the reason was because he didn’t have much stuff to begin with, but there was barely any sign that anyone even lived in here!

 

“Very cheerful room,” Ginny said cheekily.

 

“Shut up,” he snarled.

 

“What are you doing anyway?” She realised he was sitting on the bed with a large book in his hand. He was wearing a green jumper that contrasted nicely with his ice blond hair.

 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” he said icily, placing the book on the bedside table. It was then that she noticed the piece of charcoal in his other hand.

 

“You draw?” she asked, astonished. “I never would have guessed that you were artistic.”

 

“If you didn’t come for a specific reason, would you mind leaving? Actually, even if you came for a reason, leave anyway.”

 

“I’ve been thinking, right?” Ginny closed the door behind her and took a few tentative steps into the room.

 

“Never a good thing,” he muttered.

 

“I’ve been thinking that maybe…I don’t know. Maybe we could be friends?

 

“What!” Draco asked, popping up from the bed. “Why the hell would you want to be friends with me? More importantly, why would I want to be friends with you?”

 

“Because we’re stuck with each other, that’s why!” Ginny insisted, inching closer to him. “You hardly think you’re my first choice, do you? Because you’re obviously not. But we’re going to be with each other for months, maybe even longer; I think the least we could do is be civil to each other.”

 

As she was talking, she gravitated closer and closer to him, until she was almost right in his face. It was unreadable and bore its trademark indifference.

 

“Fine, Weasley,” he said in a bored tone. “We can be civil to each other. You may not be up to my usual standards, but I suppose you’ll have to do. But make no mistake that I’m doing this for my sake only. Your little tirades don’t move me in the slightest.”

 

“I wouldn’t think anything less,” Ginny drawled, adopting his attitude.

 

“Starting tomorrow,” he said and picked up his drawing book again. “I’m busy now.”

 

“One more thing.”

 

“What?” he asked and lifted an eyebrow.

 

“My name is not _Weasley_. It’s Ginny.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

_I want her_ , Draco thought as he watched her leave and close the door softly. _I really want her._

 

Somehow, Ginny Weasley was starting to grow on him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop wondering about her.

 

Hating her would probably have been much easier than being so intrigued by her. Maybe she was so implanted in his mind because he really didn’t have anything better to think about. It was either daydream about Ginny, or face his horrible demons. He would rather think about McGonagall starkers than confront his awful summer.

 

_That’s not it, and you know it. You want her because of her. Because she’s nice to you despite all you stand for. And you want her in spite of all_ she _stands for._

 

She had been right, though, about being in Potter’s shadow. Draco was living in his leftover life. It literally ate him up from the inside out.

 

And now he was starting to fancy Potter’s girl and Weasley’s sister. Could he possibly be in any deeper?

 

Draco looked once more at the picture he had drawn. She was a good likeness, but nowhere near as good as the real thing. __

 


	6. Turning Point

Chapter Six. Turning Point

 

 

 

_“The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story.”_ —Emil Ludwig

 

Ginny quickly shut the door behind her, slumped against it, and let out a deep breath that she only just became aware of holding. She felt incredibly flustered and suddenly very aware of the beating of her heart.

 

She was being silly. Why should she be afraid of Draco? _I’m not_ , Ginny reassured herself defiantly. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly _what_ she was feeling though. She felt so strange in his presence, so unlike herself. It was odd and unsettling to know that she couldn’t even determine her own feelings. It was even more unsettling to know it was because of Draco Malfoy.

 

Ginny went to her room and stretched out on her bed.

 

It couldn’t have been him that was making her feel so unlike herself. It was just the fact that she was lonely and missing Harry, Ron and Hermione.

 

She sat up and pulled open the drawer to the bedside table. She drew out a few sheets of parchment, her favourite quill, and an inkbottle. She then propped her pillow up, leaned back against it, and began to write.

 

_Dear Harry,_

_Each day that tears us farther apart also brings us closer together because it means that it’s one less day that I have to wait for you. Where did you go? When will you come back? Why did you have to leave? I have so many questions that you can’t answer, and I have only my imagination and our memories to hold me over. I hope and pray every day that you’re all right and that you come back soon. Does that make me selfish? I hope not. The way I see it, it either came down to us here together while the world falls down around us, or you out there without me, saving the world. Did we make the right decision? Of course we did; we’re Gryffindors. You’ll always pick what is right over what is easy, and it’s one of the reasons why I love you so much. It hurt like hell to let you go though. It still hurts. Sometimes I just want to tear everything apart and scream at the top of my lungs. But then I think of you, and Ron and Hermione as well. And then I’m fine again._

_Loving you always,_

_Ginny_

 

Sometimes she felt just a little pathetic as she wrote these letters to no one. She was infinitely glad that they would never see the light of day. With a flick of her wand, she sent it flying into the crackling fire and watched it burn to ashes.

 

Draco Malfoy was so different from anything or anyone she had ever known before. Strange as it sounded, it was almost refreshing to be in such close proximity to someone who _wasn’t_ brimming over with Gryffindor pride.  

 

And then there was the fact that their families hated each other. She knew how taboo it would be to strike up a friendship with him, and that made it even more exciting.

 

“Of course!” she said aloud, triumphantly. It was becoming clearer to her now.  Ginny smiled. She felt much better now that she had labelled and categorised her emotions in her mind. Not to mention that it would be nice to finally have somebody to talk to again. She didn’t expect to be friends with Draco, of course. But he would definitely be a nice change from the drudgery that had become her life. Ginny looked over the neatly made-up bed at the other side of the room that belonged to Hermione and was saddened. Without the people that meant the most to her, she felt as if she was living without a purpose.

 

Ginny swiped at the slight dampness at her cheeks and sighed. It was an all-inclusive sigh. Her stomach suddenly rumbled, and with a small smile, she headed down to dinner.

 

Once she was in the corridor, she smelled the familiarly pleasing aroma of pot roast. _Mmm, my favourite_ , she thought. She felt a little strange and uncomfortable as she came to Draco’s door but passed by without pause. It wasn’t until she got to the landing that she heard his door click open. She saw Draco stick his head out his room, and for once, she caught a view of his completely unguarded face. It was captivating.

 

His tousled platinum locks fell in his face. His eyes were closed, and there was a smile playing around his lips, an expression she had never seen on him before. He breathed in deeply and let out a contented sigh.

 

It was not only his face, either. He had taken off his dark green jumper and was wearing a plain white t-shirt in its place. He also had socks on his feet without shoes. It looked odd at first to see him dressed so casually outside of the mornings, but the more she looked at him, the more Ginny came to realise that she preferred him this way.

 

It took Ginny utterly by surprise, and she quickly ducked around the corner before he could see her. She slid down the wall and landed on the floor with a soft thud. 

 

Where had his cold demeanour gone? She felt as if this was the first time she had the privilege to catch a real glimpse of Draco. He finally seemed human to her now.

 

Abruptly, his door snapped back closed, and it snapped her out of her reverie. She got on her hands and knees, peeked around the wall, and saw he was no longer there. _That_ was the Draco she wanted to live with. Be friends with. Yes, friends. Who were they kidding? They both needed a friend. Mere civility wouldn’t kill her. And she was sure Harry wouldn’t mind _too_ much. He himself had felt a certain amount of pity for Draco during the summer. Who was she kidding? Malfoy was Harry’s worst enemy. Ron’s as well. _But they’re not exactly here at the moment, are they? So, for now, it doesn’t matter. Now the only problem is convincing Draco. Luckily, I’m persuasive. Or at the very least, persistent._

 

Ginny scrambled to her feet, smoothing down her clothes and hair, before opening his door. He was in the process of pulling his jumper back over his head and didn’t notice her at first. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms, smiling.

 

“Shite!” he yelped when he finally saw her. “What the devil are you doing here?”

 

She could see he was flustered and clearly trying to put his façade back in place. It was actually kind of amusing.

 

“No need to get so defensive,” Ginny said lightly. “I only came to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

 

“Would it have hurt you to knock?” Draco said and scowled at her. He waved his wand over his shoes, and they laced themselves up. “I could have been wanking off, and you would have been in for a nice little surprise, wouldn’t you have?”

 

Ginny’s arms fell to her side, and her mouth formed a perfect “o”. _Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t…_ She felt her cheeks redden and burn. And totally unbidden, shady images started to form in her mind, and she had to force herself to repel them. _You do_ not _want to go there._

 

“On second thought,” he said with a smirk and sidled up to her, “maybe that’s just what you need.”

 

“You’re disgusting!” Ginny turned away from him and started walking back down the corridor. Her cheeks were perhaps even more enflamed than before.

 

“I’m truthful, and you know it,” he said lazily, right behind her. So close, in fact, that she could smell him and feel his breath.

 

“Dinner!” her mum yelled.

 

“About time,” Ginny muttered and stormed away. Sometimes she didn’t understand her own self.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

A few mornings later, Draco and Ginny were alone at the breakfast table. She had all but abandoned her decision to befriend him, and they had continued on with their cold civility. The more she thought about it, the more she believed it was for the best anyway. She was also coming to realise that she could be an idiot at times.

 

“Pass the syrup, please?” she asked him, about to tuck into the meal that she had cooked. It was Friday, and both her parents were off again. It worried her that they were gone so much. Usually her mother could be depended upon to be home, and her being away so often was a sign of how bad things had become. Ginny felt so isolated from the rest of the world and useless right along with it. Sometimes she just wanted to give up her relatively safe condition and leave. Just leave and go fight, or help somebody – anything to feel needed. Then she would realise how absurd she was being, bottle up her emotions once more, and tend to her studies.

 

“What?” Draco asked. He was staring at her as if she had asked him to hand over his wand instead of the syrup.

 

“The syrup,” she prompted, “it’s right next to you.”

 

“What the hell do you need syrup for?”

 

“What’s with the questions? I’m not about to dump it over your head if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“Of course I wasn’t. Haven’t you ever heard the term ‘slower than molasses’ before?”

 

Ginny groaned. She finally just got up herself and snatched the bottle away from the table, only to place it in front of her place a few inches away. “Thank you for nothing,” she snapped.

 

“ _Tell me_ ,” he said with a look of utter disgust on his face, “that you are not about to put those on your eggs.”

 

“I most certainly am. What’s wrong with that?”

 

“Syrup on scrambled eggs?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“With cheese?”

 

“Yes!” Ginny insisted. “It’s not as horrible as you think, you know. I don’t drench them or anything; just drizzle a bit over them. You should try it.” She kicked her slippers off, crossed her legs in her chair, and pulled her extra large t-shirt over her knees. Her mother would be appalled, but she was comfortable.

 

“I would rather eat shite than eat that. Not I see much of a difference at the moment…”

 

“Are you taking the mickey out of me for my cooking?”

 

He seemed to debate with himself for a moment. Finally he said, “Your cooking is like your mother’s.”

 

Ginny considered that and smiled. “I take that as a compliment then.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever gets you through the day.”

 

Ginny genuinely laughed, and for the first time, she didn’t feel completely awkward in his presence. And if she looked hard enough, she could even see a little of his own ice melting off.

 

“I dare you to try some,” she said in a challenging tone, still chuckling.

 

“You _dare_ me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “What are we, third years?”

 

Ginny observed him. She could plainly see that as much as he wished otherwise, he was enjoying himself just as much as she was. 

 

“I see,” she said in mock-realisation. “Draco Malfoy can play Quidditch, can boast about all his ‘extensive’ skills, but is too afraid to eat a little eggs with syrup?”

 

“Don’t forget the cheese,” he grumbled.

 

“Of course not,” she said, laughing again.

 

Ginny started eating her eggs and made exaggerated sounds. “So good,” she would say every now and then. It took all of her power not to burst out laughing at the look on his face from her teasing.

 

“Fine,” he finally drawled quietly. “I’ll try one bite.”

 

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you.” She put her hand to her ear.

 

“Rubbish, Ginny. You heard me just fine. Now give me a bite before I change my mind.”

 

It was thrilling, somehow, to hear him say her name. It was the first time he had ever said it to her.

 

Ginny shook her head and disregarded the odd sensations in her stomach. She gathered up a whopping forkful of eggs and held it out to him.

 

“Not so fast,” he said with a smirk.

 

“What is it now?”

 

“If I do this, then I get to dare you to do something.”

 

Ginny’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Something like what?” she asked sceptically.

 

“Hmm,” he said. “I think I’ll reserve the right to decide.”

 

“That hardly sounds fair,” she pouted.

 

Draco shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

 

And suddenly Ginny knew what he was playing it. He fully expected her to “leave it,” therefore letting him get away without tasting it. Because why would she willingly place herself at his mercy? Indeed, why would she? Perhaps she wanted to prove a point. Or maybe she was just enough of a masochist find out what he had in store for her.

 

“I’m taking it,” she said. Draco opened his mouth, presumably to say something, but Ginny instead took that opportunity to stick the fork in his mouth.

 

Draco started to choke on the eggs, and Ginny couldn’t hold in her laughter anymore. She doubled over as she watched him chew and force the eggs down.

 

“Now, was that so hard?” she asked him when he had swallowed.

 

“Terrible,” he answered and took big gulps of orange juice.

 

“Liar,” she said, calling his bluff.

 

“You want me to be honest?” he asked as he wiped his mouth off with a napkin.

 

Ginny brushed a piece of hair away that was falling into her eyes. “That’s all I ever ask.”

 

Now Draco was watching her, and she was starting to feel uncomfortable.

 

“Not bad,” he said suddenly, still watching her.

 

He had been watching her so intently that Ginny was confused as to whether he meant her or the eggs. Was he passing some sort of judgement on her, or was she just over-analysing as usual? Maybe he was talking about both.

 

“Thanks,” she said softly to whichever one he was referring. 

 

“I never thought I would hear a sincere thanks from a Weasley,” Draco said sarcastically.

 

“You never deserved one before,” Ginny retorted. “Don’t forget that you’re the enemy.”

 

Draco scoffed. “Like I ever would.”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said and rolled her eyes. “I just meant that you’re a Malfoy, and I’m a Weasley. You’re a Slytherin and I’m a Gryffindor. You’re—”

 

“I’m an ex-Death Eater and you’re on the side of the ‘ _good and light’_.” He said “good and light” in a tone that was clearing mocking all that she stood for.

 

“That’s right, I am,” Ginny spat in a proud defiance. “And what about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“Well, you clearly don’t support us, and yet you call yourself an ex-Death Eater.”

 

“That speaks for itself then, doesn’t it?” Draco said and sat up straighter in his chair. 

 

“Not really,” Ginny said flatly.

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter. What I think and do doesn’t matter to you, and it’s none of your business anyway.” 

 

Draco made to get up, but Ginny abruptly grabbed his arm. His skin was warm and heated her cool skin. Out of pure curiosity and probably insanity, she pushed the sleeve of his grey t-shirt that almost matched his eyes, and exposed his Dark Mark tattoo.

 

Ginny took a finger and hesitantly touched it. Instead of recoiling like she expected him to, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Right above the tattoo was another scar that had healed from the summer, and she traced that too.

 

“It matters to me,” she said gently.

 

“Why?” he insisted, refusing to meet her eyes. “We’re born enemies. You hate me, and the feeling is pretty much mutual. I’ve done things that you think are terrible, but that I’m not about to apologise for.”

 

“I’m not asking you to. I already know what kind of person you are, and I would be a fool to think you would change. But…”

 

“What?” he asked, finally facing her. Her hand was still on his forearm.

 

“I really don’t know,” she answered honestly. And then without thinking, without considering the consequences and without wondering why, Ginny Weasley kissed Draco Malfoy.

 

 


	7. Facing the Strange

Chapter Seven: Facing the Strange

 

 

_When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us._

 

-Alexander Graham Bell

 

Ginny wasn't really sure what made her do it, but once she was kissing Draco Malfoy, almost nothing in the world could make her stop. It was something that should have been so terribly wrong but instead felt so absolutely right.

 

She had obviously taken him by surprise when she planted her lips on his, and, at first, he did nothing. But then he slowly gave himself up to the kiss, and it took Ginny's breath away.

 

Draco hugged her close to him, and her arms automatically circled his neck. His lips were soft and surprisingly sweet ( _from the syrup_ , she later noted), and when she felt his tongue slip into her mouth and slide across her teeth, she knew she was gone. She moaned, and that seemed to excite him even more. She ran a hand through his hair, and he moaned too.

 

But instead of making her want more of him, it seemed to bring her back to her senses. Ginny recoiled and pushed away from him. Ginny was unceremoniously kicked off her high cloud as images of Harry floated through her mind.

 

"Oh my god," she whispered. "I can't believe I just kissed Draco Malfoy."

 

"Yes, and I can't believe I just got kissed by a filthy blood traitor," he responded angrily. It was like looking at a completely different person than the one she had just snogged. His cold demeanour was back in place.

 

"You kissed me too," Ginny retorted, still flustered.

 

"That's an overstatement," Draco said icily.

 

"It's an understatement! You enjoyed snogging me." If the situation wasn't so bloody bizarre, Ginny would probably be laughing her head off.

 

"In your dreams, little Weaslette," he snarled.

 

"Well, I won't be making that mistake again."

 

"Good," Draco said and turned his back on her.

 

"Good!" Ginny repeated and stormed out the room. She only made it as far as the staircase before she slumped down on the steps and put her head in her hands. And it took all the resolve she possessed not to cry.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

_"I love kissing you," Harry murmured against Ginny's lips. They were in a secluded spot at the Burrow on a summer night. A warm breeze was playing through her hair while the cool grass beneath them grazed her skin. It was very rare to feel so content in the times which they lived in, but she was nevertheless._

_"So do I," Ginny said with a smile. She gave him a big open-mouthed, wet kiss on his lips. "I'm_ such _a good kisser, right?"_

_"Absolutely," Harry said and laughed. He leaned over as if to kiss her again and started tickling her instead. She shrieked and tried in vain to push him off of her._

_"Stop!" she cried._

_"Beg me for it," he said. It was said innocently enough, but for some reason, Ginny's dirty mind went into overdrive, and she stopped wriggling._

_It was at that moment that Harry seemed to realise what he said and what it implied, and he immediately ceased tickling her and reddened. He sat up and wouldn't meet her eyes. Ginny empathised with how awkward he must have felt because she was once in his place. She also felt a little empowered because she was hardly ever the one with more experience in anything than anyone else._

_"Look at me, Harry." She sat up and moved closer to him so that she was almost pressed against him._

_"What?" he asked warily. It was time to acknowledge the elephant in the room._

_"I just want you to know that it's okay with me for whatever you want," she said gently. Ginny was more than ready to be intimate with Harry, but she certainly didn't want to push him into anything he didn't want to do._

_Ginny remembered how Michael Corner pressured her so often to have sex with him and how it was one of the things that ended up driving them apart. Luckily for her, nobody knew that except for Hermione because if any of her brothers had ever found out, she doubted he would have been able to even return to Hogwarts after they were through with him._

_Dean was different, of course. He was sweet to her and waited until she was ready. It was one of the reasons why she cared for him. In retrospect, Ginny later realised that neither of them had ever loved each other, but they did have a great relationship that only ended because they eventually tired of one another. Little things about him that used to be cute turned into pet peeves. The spark they once had was gone._

_Harry finally looked deeply into her eyes, and it was like looking into a mirror, for she saw all the love she felt for him reflecting back to her. It was a powerful feeling, and for a moment, she felt like the luckiest girl in the world._

_Harry caressed her shoulder.  "I want you."_

_The words touched her to the core, and she kissed him with a fervour she didn't even know she possessed. He kissed her back with equal passion, and his lips slowly drifted towards her neck. Ginny arched back in ecstasy and lost herself in all of the emotions._

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

"You look like hell."

 

Ginny glanced up guardedly to find Tonks standing in front of her. Her hair was a fetching shade of midnight blue today that Ginny, in the recesses of her mind that _weren't_ consumed with guilt and confusion, thought complemented her skin tone quite nicely.

 

"Thank you very much," Ginny drawled. "Always what I love to hear."

 

"What's happened to you?" Tonks asked as she nudged Ginny aside with her foot and joined her on the steps.

 

There was just something about Tonks that made Ginny want to confide in her. For all of her silliness and clumsiness, Tonks knew a thing or two about matters of the heart. Not to mention she was older and probably about the least judgemental person Ginny knew. That alone made her appealing.

 

"Promise you won't tell?"

 

"Do I look like the sort of person that would go blabbing everybody's secrets about?" Tonks asked, crossing her arms.

 

"How honestly would you like me to answer that?" Ginny said with a raised eyebrow.

 

Tonks pouted and said in a hurt tone, "Well I am in the bloody Order, aren't I? That at least has to count for something..."

 

"I was only joking," Ginny said and pushed some hair out of her face. "To be honest, I would probably pour my heart out to you even if you admitted to me you were Rita Skeeter in disguise," she said wryly.

 

"That juicy then?"

 

"I certainly don't think so," Ginny said, slightly defensively.

 

"Love troubles, I take it," Tonks said with a smirk.

 

"You could call it that." Ginny squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly nervous to actually voice her problems.

 

"Spill."

 

Again, Tonks' demeanour somehow put Ginny at ease, and she told her everything. Tonks was a very good listener, expressing the right reactions at every twist and turn of Ginny's sordid tale. And as Ginny expected (or rather, hoped), Tonks didn't judge or criticise her for having feelings for Draco. In the end, she gave what Ginny thought would be some much needed advice.

 

"I'm not going to tell you what to do or how you should feel," Tonks said, and Ginny felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. As much as Ginny valued her independence and following her own mind, having it spelled out for her would have just been so simple.

 

"However," Tonks continued, "you know what kind of person my cousin is, just as you know what kind of person Harry is. Most importantly, you know who you are and what makes you happy. Don't compromise anything for anyone. And above all else - follow your heart!"

 

Ginny pondered that. "Kind of vague, don't you think?"

 

Tonks shrugged. "Perhaps. But I would have killed for that kind of advice at your age. Hell, I would have killed for that six months ago when I had to figure it out all on my own with Remus."

 

"How are you two doing, by the way?" Ginny was finished talking about herself for the moment and welcomed the distraction.

 

As Tonks gushed (is that what love reduced people to?), Ginny couldn't help but let her mind drift to the boy down the corridor and to the boy that could have been anywhere on the planet at the moment. Was either of the two thinking of her right now?

 

It should have been no contest in Ginny's heart. She loved Harry with everything she had, whereas she could barely stand to be in the same room as Draco Malfoy. Why, then, couldn't she stop thinking about the most selfish boy in the world instead of the boy who was out there saving it?

 


	8. Reversal

**Chapter Eight. Reversal**

 

 If it was at all possible, things actually worsened for Draco and Ginny during the next month. She was never able to meet his eyes, and most of the time, he just pretended she wasn't in the room. But when their gazes _did_ happen to meet, he would always smirk at her. Smirk as if he knew of the conflicted inner turmoil that lay within her. The wanker.

 

Their dueling became even more aggressive than usual. But their differences became obvious as time wore on. While Draco was absolutely frigid and always maintained a calm composure, Ginny was nearly bursting and just wanted to get everything off her chest. She wasn't the type that just let things stew; and yet with Draco, she felt completely out of her element.

 

The way Ginny saw it, it was probably a good thing that she wasn't able to approach him. She had no business wanting to talk to Draco Malfoy anyway. It was bad enough that she snogged him. What would Harry say? What about her family? And even putting aside all of the horrible things she knew about him and how much Harry and Ron hated him, just the fact alone that he was _a Malfoy_ should have caused her to run, not walk, in the other direction. She must be a sick and twisted individual indeed to feel the very opposite. Seriously, what was wrong with her?

 

"Harry loves me," she assured herself. "And I love him. I should be ashamed of myself."

 

They _did_ love each other. And she _was_ ashamed of even considering something with anyone else, much less with Draco Malfoy. But under all that still lay her traitorous feelings that were threatening to revolt against her almost daily.

 

To Ginny, it made no sense. Snogging him was hardly something she wanted to do. And she definitely didn't want to have to fight off any feelings for him (which disgusted Ginny that they were even there in the first place). And yet, all of this was happening anyway.

 

Ginny had never really been one to sink into depressions or dark places, disregarding, of course, her first year. She liked to see the best in situations and tried not to dwell on the things that bothered her too much. However, as much as she tried to not make her life seem so bleak, she was starting to spiral down to rock bottom.

 

There was a lot of thinking on her bed and staring into space, which was what she was doing at the moment. She read a great deal more often, which had never really been her thing until now. And she was eating a lot more than normal. It was like she was trying to embody the different traits of Harry, Ron and Hermione.

 

There was a knock at the door, disrupting her from what she called "reflecting" but what was really nothing more than moping. Her mum stuck her head in the door.

 

"Hello, dear," she said softly.

 

"Hi, Mum," Ginny answered, not moving from her comfortable position. She knew what her mother wanted; discussion. There was an obvious change in Ginny over the past few months, and she knew her mum wanted to get to the bottom of it. She hadn't been around as much - neither of her parents was, or any of the other Order members - and now it was obviously time for compensating.

 

Sometimes Ginny actually did genuinely reflect, and the almost constant solitude forced her to take a long, hard look at her life. And not just the time from the summer either. She came up with several observations:

 

Ginny grew up in love with life itself. She was an optimist and made everyone's day better. She was mischievous but caring, courageous yet vulnerable.

 

Her first year changed most of that, or at least altered it. She no longer saw things in black and white and came to realize the harsh realities of the world. She was damaged and was only left with the bare essentials with which to build herself up again.

 

And build Ginny did. She broke out of her shell, gave up on Harry ever noticing her, and finally made something of herself. It was probably one of the best decisions in her life.

 

Of course, she could never completely give up on Harry. She had loved him for as long as she could remember, and the idea of not loving him any more made her feel strange and incomplete. When he finally did notice her, it was the best feeling in the world. And it was a great and magical summer, despite their difficulties. She loved Harry Potter and she knew he loved her back, and it had been enough for her.

 

But was it? Was it really enough? Was theirs the kind of love that would last a lifetime, that would make the history books? Would their passion burn for decades to come?

 

When Ginny thought about the kind of love she wanted, her mind immediately went to her mother and father, and then to Ron and Hermione. _Those_ two relationships were the stuff of legends. Did she have that with Harry?

 

It scared her to death to even question their love, and she cried about it for days. And in the end, she was left with the ultimate question of whom or what did she love:  Harry or the thought of Harry? The idea of being in love with Harry Potter was a dream. But did the reality live up to it?

 

It was something she couldn't - wouldn't - think about while he was out risking his neck trying to make the world they lived in a safe one. Ginny wasn't that cruel. 

 

"Ginny?" a voice called.

 

She was snapped back to the present, where her mother was waiting for her. Molly Weasley was literally towering over Ginny, who was still lying down in bed.

 

"Yes?" she sighed.  
  


"Do you want to tell me what's wrong, love?"

 

Ginny actually thought about it. There was plenty wrong. So much she could say. But would her mother even understand?

 

She shook her head in response. "There's nothing wrong," she lied. It was their usual exchange.

 

Her mother crossed her arms. "You're lying to me. Would you like to know how I know that?"

 

"What are you talking about?" she asked uneasily.

 

"You, my intelligent little daughter, picked the _wrong_ person to confide in."

 

"Tonks told you!" Ginny practically shrieked and stood up abruptly. "How could she?"

 

"Don't worry. Unfortunately, she only cracked a little. Just enough to tell me that there is something bothering you."

 

Ginny was still horrified and felt betrayed. Was it so much to expect someone to keep a secret around here? She was reminded of their last stay in Grimmauld Place, and how fumbled and flustered Tonks was, especially around Mrs. Weasley. What on earth could have addled Ginny's brain?

 

"She also managed to convince me to _not_ nag you about it, so don't be mad at her." 

 

_That's a lot to ask, don't you think?_

 

"Ginny?" her mum said softly. Something about the tone of her voice made Ginny look at her mother. Her warm brown eyes were starting to get cloudy, and she gently wrapped her arms around her daughter.

 

"I love you, my miracle," she said into Ginny's hair. It was name she hadn't heard from her mother in years. It was what she used to call her when she was little because she was the only girl in the family. "And you can tell me anything, you know that. I'll always listen to you. Always."

 

That touched Ginny, and she felt a few tears slip out of her eyes. She hugged her mum back just as fiercely and enjoyed having a mother's embrace.

 

"Thank you," she whispered.

 

Ginny's love for her family was constant, and it was the one thing she could always depend on. The only kind of love that wouldn't let her down. She would be more careful not to take it for granted.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Christmas was fast approaching, and this was the first time in Ginny's entire life that she was not looking forward to it. Actually, there was another time when she was seven involving (who else?) Fred and George when they told her she was getting nothing but coal for Christmas. But they were most definitely punished for it by their father, which more than made up for it in Ginny's eyes.

 

There were many reasons why she wasn't looking forward to Christmas, the most glaring of them being that they were going to spend it at Grimmauld Place. Even if they had managed to get the house presentable enough, it still carried some residual gloom that refused to be banished. And then there was also the fact that it would just be herself, her parents, the twins, and the "icy one", if he decided to grace them all with his presence.

 

Charlie was still in Romania, while Bill was going to be in France with Fleur and his new in-laws. He wasn't even going to be able to make it for Boxing Day due to increased security with travelling.

 

Not to mention, of course, that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still missing. Ginny thought that was the best way to put it since she had no clue where they were, when they would be back, or even what kind of danger they were in. The only thing she _did_ know was that they actually _were_ in danger. Obviously, not exactly the most comforting thought in the world. Still, she continued to send them every ounce of hope and love she had in her heart. It was the least she could do.

 

The very helplessness of her situation was eating away at her. Ginny was a doer, and she hated not being able to _do_ anything.

 

One day, a few days before Christmas, Ginny was idly wandering the house in complete boredom. Lessons were done for the day, her father was at work while her mum was downstairs baking. Tonks had already been by, and they played a few games of Gobstones before she had to go back to work. It was hard to stay mad at Tonks for long for two reasons: her personality was just too fun, and she really did seem so apologetic that being mad at her just seemed pointless. And then there was also the undeniable fact that Tonks was all the company she had.

 

Ginny felt she couldn't possibly pick another book for the day, and she avoided the library like the plague. What else was there to do?

 

In a fit of desperation, she decided to wander upstairs and explore the unused rooms. They were unused for a reason, and she was afraid they might _actually_ carry the plague up there. Still, she couldn't think of a better thing to do.

 

She cautiously entered one room to immediately be accosted by a storm of dust and left in a coughing fit.

 

Ginny swiped at the tears that lingered at the corners of her eyes. She slumped against the wall and slid down in defeat. This had obviously been a bad idea. There was nothing up here but dust and mould, and she didn't know why she tried to delude herself into thinking otherwise. It was only because she had just been so desperate to find something to do that would break the mould, or let her forget, at least for a little while. Wishful thinking.

 

Just as Ginny was about to get up and head back downstairs, something caught her ears. Something faint but definitely something musical. And it was a cheerful little tune, with a fast tempo and high notes. Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she slowly followed the music. It was coming from the end of the corridor. She was listening intently when it suddenly stopped. Ginny had a horrible thought that she was imagining things when it started back up again, this time with a slow and mournful number, and she was filled with an inexplicable feeling. She _had_ to find the source of that music.

 

Ginny finally reached the door that hid the music within. She could now decipher that it clearly came from a piano. That meant that either the piano was charmed, or...

 

She quietly pushed open the door to reveal Draco Malfoy, sitting on a bench at the piano, his fingers flying across the keys. He wasn't looking at his hands, nor were there any sheets in front of him. It was music that was not memorised by heart, but _from_ the heart. Ginny was frozen in place. She could do nothing but stand and listen.

 

The song was eerie and chilling, the kind that resonated from the inside out. At one point, it reached a crescendo that nearly gave her goose bumps, and she was so mesmerised that she wasn't even aware that the song had ended.

 

That was, until, she was rudely informed of the fact.

 

" _What_ are you doing here?" came an icy voice that broke through Ginny's reverie. She snapped to attention.

 

"I'm s-sorry," she stammered. "It's just that I heard music and wondered where it was coming from." 

 

"So naturally, you being the nosy pest that you are, you barge in on me - _again_."

 

"Honestly, that wasn't my intention. The music - it was just so lovely." Ginny felt her face redden and cursed herself.

 

Draco obviously didn't know how to take a compliment from her, because he said nothing while a muscle in his jaw twitched. If anything, his face became even stonier.

 

"Who was that by?" she asked hesitantly.

 

"What does it matter?" he snapped. "No doubt you know nothing of music anyway. I bet you've never even seen a piano up-close. Your family would have starved for a year to even afford a fourth of the value mine at home was worth."

 

His words were cruel and biting, and they hurt. Ginny felt tears threaten to well up, and she absolutely hated how he made her feel. Who was he to try and make her feel inferior?

 

"Why don't you go home then? I'm sure your father would welcome you home with open arms, right? Oh, that's right; he can't. And he probably wouldn't even if he could." 

 

Draco's eyes hardened. "Don't you dare even speak about my father! He is your superior in every way. He's not a filthy Mudblood-loving dolt like yours and he knows his place, unlike you. You're not even worthy enough to speak to me, or of my father."

 

A myriad of feelings were swirling around in Ginny's mind. The one that took the forefront was, of course, anger.

 

"This is the same father that works for the evil lord that would have seen you dead without a second thought, right? And need I remind you that you are at the mercy of _my_ family? The family that you think is so beneath you took you in when nobody else would. So you know what? You can take your damned blood purity and self-proclaimed superiority and shove it up your arse. Because that means nothing here," Ginny said with conviction.

 

"This house rightfully belongs to my family," he retorted.

 

"Not any more," Ginny said smugly. "Harry owns it now. Doesn't it just kill you?"

 

"I hate you," Draco spat with absolute venom.

 

For some reason, Ginny burst into laughter. Draco looked as if he was about to spit fire.

 

"What the hell is so funny?"

 

"You don't hate me," she said with a smile. She sauntered over to the vacant piano bench and sat down on it.

 

"Oh trust me, I do. I hate you for everything you stand for. I hate you for being a blood-traitor, and I hate you for being poor. And I especially hate you because you're such a bloody Gryffindor. There's nothing right now I'm more sure of than that I hate you."

 

"Maybe you do hate that I don't give a shite about being a pureblood. But you love that I'm poor and that I'm a Gryffindor because you get to taunt me about it. What you really hate is that it doesn't get to me like it does my brother."

 

Draco folded his arms across his chest and sneered. "What is wrong with you that you do not understand me?"

 

Ginny stretched her legs out lazily. "I think I'm beginning to get you more than you think."

 

"Oh really?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Yes. You see, you tease Ron so much because you know you'll get a reaction out of him each and every time. But I'm not like that. I may get defensive or angry sometimes, but I'm not going to fly into a rage and punch you in the face. In other words, you don't have much of an affect on me at all.  I even tried to befriend you, and _that's_ what you hate."

 

Draco took a few strides towards her and stared her right in the face. It was a bit unnerving. 

 

"You think I don't have an affect on you?"

 

"Yes - I mean no - I mean-"

 

Draco kneeled down in front of her so that they were face to face. "Exactly."

 

"What I was trying to say was-"

 

"Why else would you kiss me?" he interrupted.

 

Ginny gasped. She didn't think it was something he would ever bring up; rather, she was _hoping_ he never would.

 

And then Draco kissed her.

 


	9. Chase Away the Sanity

_Cus it's a bittersweet symphony, this life._

-"Bittersweet Symphony," The Verve

 

 

Kissing Ginny Weasley was both heaven and hell at the same time, and Draco was a fool to do it. He would have liked to think it was just to shut her up or prove a point - both of which he was sure he had just completed. Yes, that's what made him kiss her, but what was it that made him snog her senseless?

 

Maybe because he could think of little else since their last kiss. Her soft lips that were faintly sweet, her rich, fiery hair that seemed to have a personality all its own, and the way she held her own against him; these were the thoughts that took over his mind about her instead of the loathing he usually felt. Life was so much better when all he felt towards her was simple loathing.

 

Because she was definitely right about one thing - he didn't hate her. He couldn't even bring himself to hate her. If he wasn't Draco Malfoy and she wasn't Ginny Weasley...if he wasn't on the fringes and she not firmly in the Light...if it was another time and place...they might have even been friends. Possibly more. But none of that was true.

 

And yet...there was no denying that when their lips met, it was electric. He went from slow, experimental kisses to completely drinking her in like a man in a desert did to water. He couldn't get enough of her. And apparently she couldn't either because she placed her hands on either side of face, as if to keep him there.

 

There was a tiny voice in his head that was screaming for him to stop, reminding him of the dreadful consequences if anyone ever found out. And even if they didn't, why would he want to snog a filthy blood-traitor anyway?

 

It was getting easier and easier to ignore that voice when Ginny was placing little fluttering kisses all over his face and gave a cat-like lick on his ear. Draco couldn't help but give a little moan and started rubbing his hands up and down her arms. He eased her off the bench so that she could be level with him. He inched his hands along the milkiness of her skin, pushing her jumper up as he went. As he reached past her elbows and his cold fingers touched her upper arms, he felt her shiver. 

 

It was pleasing to know that she shivered because of him. He felt a perverse sense of satisfaction that he had his hands and lips all over Potter's girlfriend, and it overruled the slight disgust he felt about desiring anything Potter had ever touched.

 

Draco had the sudden urge to mark her as his. He lifted her head and looked into her eyes, so she would know his actions were deliberate. There would be no question later about the effect he had on her.

 

Ginny's warm brown eyes were smouldering and probably reflected his own. Draco swooped in and attacked her lips while Ginny embraced him just as fiercely. He strayed down to her jaw and then finally lingered on her neck. She threw her head back and moaned in appreciation.

 

Ginny dug her nails into Draco's shoulders so hard that she knew it had to hurt, but he never gave any indication of it. He completely filled her senses to the point where she could barely think, and when she did, it was only to think of him.

 

"Ginny," he murmured huskily against her neck. He was sucking on her, and she felt scalded by his touch there, so contrary to his usually cold hands. Ginny herself felt like she would melt.

 

"More," she urged.

 

Draco nipped and sucked on her, and Ginny knew she didn't ever want him to stop. She thought she heard him say her name again but couldn't be sure.

 

"Ginny!" Her eyes popped open. This time she knew she was being called, and it was most certainly _not_ by Draco but by her father.

 

"I'm coming," she yelled. Ginny didn't even allow herself to look in his direction before she pushed herself off the floor and fled out the room. She only just paused in front of the mirror to tidy her hair before she noticed-

 

"You might want to cover that," the mirror said wryly.

 

"No kidding," Ginny replied, anxiously jabbing the huge red spot on her neck with her wand. She finally just rolled up her jumper to cover it and hoped for the best. 

 

_Damn him!_ Ginny thought furiously.

 

 

 

***

 

 

Ginny wasn't sure which Draco she was most uneasy around: the Draco that completely ignored and hated her, or the Draco that sent her sly looks across the table and took every opportunity he could to touch her. Every time he bumped into her as he passed by or brushed his hands with hers as she reluctantly passed him the peas (which she happened to know he hated), it sent a flutter of _something_ to go haywire in her stomach.

 

On Christmas Eve, the Weasleys barely went through the motions of putting up a tree and a few random decorations. Nobody's heart was in it this year, not even Mrs. Weasley's. It seemed rather foolish to go about with holiday cheer when there were people dying every day all around them.

 

Christmas Day came with a definite gloom. So few of Ginny's brothers were in attendance, and it was reminiscent of the time when only Bill managed to come home for Christmas. Fred and George stopped by and stayed for a few hours, which cheered them all up a tiny bit. She even caught Draco curving his mouth a mere fraction of an inch which Ginny took as a smile at one of their jokes.

 

Dinner was an odd affair. Ginny, her parents, Draco, and the twins sat down to it, but throughout, different members of the Order dropped by for a quick plate before they were off again. First McGonagall came over and filled them in on how she was trying to appeal the decision about Hogwarts closing. They all knew how Dumbledore would have wanted it to stay open.

 

Next came Tonks, who kept shooting looks between Ginny and Draco, and Ginny had to make violent motions with her hands to get her to stop. Luckily, Fred and George were too busy stuffing their faces to notice. She would have never heard the end of it otherwise.

 

Even Lupin stopped by, and she saw him and Tonks holding hands. Ginny thought their relationship was one of the sweetest things ever, and she wished them all the happiness that they deserved and could find.

 

As happy as she was for the extra company, it only seemed to cement the fact that this was a Christmas unlike any other, for all the wrong reasons. All Ginny could do was hope that next year would be better.

 

"Dinner was delicious, Mum," Ginny said as she helped her mother clear the table.

 

"As usual," her father said with a small smile and helped as well. Ginny took a good look at both her parents and was saddened to see how haggard and beaten they looked. Her father's hair was steadily thinning and was starting to turn white at the temples. And where her mother's figure had always been pleasantly plump, she now had the appearance of someone who lost a great amount of weight in a short amount of time without even realizing it. Both of them looked the worse for wear, and Ginny knew few people felt the pressures of the war more than her parents did.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, everything was delightful. Thank you for the meal," came the charming (and to Ginny's ears, very slimy) voice of Draco. All three of the Weasleys looked at him in surprise, though Ginny looked at him with more suspicion than anything.

 

Mrs. Weasley actually looked touched. "Why thank you, Draco. That's very kind of you." Ginny felt sick to her stomach.

 

"Would you like any help with the dishes?" he asked innocently.

 

"I-" she said before he gathered up the rest of the dishes and walked them into the kitchen.

 

Ginny stared at her parents. Her mother looked rather pleased while her father just shrugged.

 

"He's up to something," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes at the kitchen door. "He's sat with us everyday for dinner and has barely said a word, and now all of sudden he's willingly taking on chores and handing out compliments like libraries lend out books."

 

"Don't be so quick to judge him, Ginny," her mum scolded. "It is Christmas, after all. You never know, maybe he's had a change of heart."

 

"Change of heart my arse," Ginny muttered mutinously.

 

"You may as well go help him," her father said to her as he put his arm around his wife. "And I never thought I would say this, but maybe your mother is right about him. I understand he's been horrible to our family these past few years, but we're all he's got now. Just remember that you still have all your loved ones while he has nobody."

 

"But-," Ginny sputtered.

 

"Now," Mrs. Weasley said firmly as they both walked out the dining area, leaving Ginny to stew.

 

It was so easy for her parents to take his side! They weren't privy to his hateful tirade just a few days ago. They weren't the ones that got lost in his sensual kisses or entertained the most traitorous but enticing thoughts...

 

"Are you coming?" Draco poked his head out the kitchen door, one eyebrow raised as if he could read her thoughts. Damn him again!

 

Ginny said nothing but pushed past him, her head held high. She would _not_ let him get to her. She directed the dirty dishes in the sink with her wand and set the sponge scrubbing. Ginny leaned against the counter and folded her arms.

 

"You can dry," she said succinctly.

 

"Thank you for that privilege," Draco said dryly. He came over to the counter and leaned against it as well, mimicking her pose.

 

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked him.

 

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Merely waiting for the dishes to be washed."

 

"Not that," she said with a scowl and looked at him with disdain. "I mean what's your game? Why are you suddenly being nice to my parents?"

 

Draco put his hand on her arm, and she instinctively flinched. "You don't want me to touch you? You didn't mind it the other day."

 

"That was a mistake," Ginny said curtly.

 

"I think we both know it wasn't," Draco said softly in her ear.

 

He watched the emotions play on her face and inwardly smirked. She was playing right into the palm of his hand.

 

Draco's plan was so simple, and yet, so effective. He would make the little Weaslette fall for him, and hard. Then he would break her pathetic little heart, and she would go back to Potter as damaged goods. It would be the ultimate revenge, and he would have a little fun in the mean time.

 

And it was surprisingly very easy to ignore the voice questioning who would really end up hurt in the end.

 


	10. Getting There

Chapter Ten. Getting There

 

 

 

_Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose [The more things change, the more they are the same]._

**_—Alphonse Karr_ **

 

 

Harry sat gazing at the fire, unseeing. He barely had a sense of who he was anymore. All he knew was that he wanted to go back home to the people he considered family. And to Ginny. Ginny was the first person to tell him she loved him besides his mother, which he regrettably couldn’t even remember. There were many things that kept his eyes on the prize, but she was the one that came to the forefront of his mind every time.

 

He, Ron and Hermione had been gone for so long that time had begun to warp together. Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Even still, Harry knew it was Christmas.

 

He would have known even if it weren’t for Ron and Hermione’s restrained faces, clearly wondering if it would even be appropriate to say anything. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at Ron’s nervous twitches.

 

He could hardly blame them for their hesitancy. Harry had been extremely driven throughout the whole mission. Combined with all their skills and cunning, it was how they had found Hufflepuff’s cup at the orphanage where Voldemort used to live. It was how they found Slytherin’s locket in a forgotten Muggle second-hand shop. It was how they now found themselves in a forest in Albania. 

 

Perhaps he was too driven. He failed to stop and think sometimes how much his friends had sacrificed for him. 

 

“What do you say we head out tomorrow instead of today?” Harry asked casually, looking over his shoulders at their surprised faces.

 

“Er,” said Ron, chancing a glance at Hermione, who shrugged helplessly.

 

“It is Christmas, you know. Unless you two _hadn’t_ known…”

 

Ron pounced on him and put him in a chokehold. “Harry, you prat!” Hermione shook her head, chuckling. Ron extended an arm to pull Hermione close, only to tickle her mercilessly. Hermione shrieked with laughter and tried to escape his clutches while Harry was busy trying to breathe for dear life.

 

Just for a few minutes, they were able to forget the world and lose themselves in the joy of being the very best of friends.

 

 

 

***

 

 

On Boxing Day, something unimaginable happened: Draco knocked on Ginny’s door. As she walked to the door, she furiously rubbed any remaining tears from her eyes. The misery of not knowing where her loved ones were at Christmas, or what kind of danger they were even in, was hitting her harder than she thought it would.

 

“What do you want?” she asked warily. She never quite knew what to do, say, or think around him anymore. His mere presence unsettled her greatly. She would have rathered he not come around at all. Not to mention that she was getting ready for bed, dressed in her nightgown, and wasn’t too keen on him seeing her like this.

 

He held up a bottle of Ogden’s Firewhiskey in one hand and two shot glasses in another. “To get mind-numbingly pissed, of course,” Draco said as if he were explaining it to a five year old. He neither asked nor seemed to care why she had been crying.

 

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Where did you even get that?”

 

“Your brothers,” Draco smirked. “Never thought they were very much use until now.”

 

“Fred and George?”

 

“Unless you have another pair of revolting-haired twins somewhere, which I wouldn’t doubt, then yes.”

 

“Why? They don’t even like you.”

 

“It was undoubtedly a thank you gift.”

 

Ginny gritted her teeth in frustration. “Sometimes I feel as if I would rather eat rat poison than try to get a few answers out you. Can you just spit it out already?”

 

Draco made such a great show of sighing that Ginny really just wanted nothing more than to slam the door in his face.

 

“Well, if you must know, I bribed them with a very expensive family piece in exchange for their services. No doubt they’ll pawn it off to some grubby shop for extra money.”

 

“What services? And they don’t need extra money, especially not from _you_.” Although Ginny wasn’t entirely certain about that. They themselves had told her that the business had practically reverted back to mail-ins. She was sure they were still getting orders, but they had probably lost a fair amount of money from so many people not coming in the shops anymore because of the war.

 

“Use your brains, Ginevra—”

 

“How do you know about that!” she practically shrieked.

 

He ignored her. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are my only links to the outside world. As much as it pained me to part with a ring so filled with nobility to people like your brothers, it was well worth the sacrifice. I now have just about anything I could want at my disposal.”

 

“Like what? And I can’t believe they told you! I’m never speaking to them again.”

 

“I’m sure their hearts will bleed at the very suggestion.” Draco rolled his eyes and tapped the bottle against his black-slack clad leg impatiently.

 

“I don’t bloody well care what they feel,” Ginny said sulkily. “And what do you need so bad that forced you to sell your soul to the devils – commonly referred to as Fred and George?”

 

“I sold my soul a long time ago. I have no soul,” Draco said in a deadpan. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore. He was in another time, another place. Undoubtedly thinking about things Ginny could never even begin to conjure in her mind. Her eyes automatically rooted to the spot where she knew his dark mark lay under his navy blue jumper.

 

“So, um…Firewhiskey then?” Ginny asked awkwardly, her gaze flicking down to the floor when he looked at her.

 

“Yes,” he said sharply. For once she knew it wasn’t aimed at her.

 

Ginny summoned some cushions to the floor and made herself comfortable on a few of them. Draco looked at her in utter disgust.

 

“There is no way I am sitting on the _floor_!” he exclaimed scathingly.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I cleared all the owl droppings away. At least, I _think_ I did.” She scratched her head, as if trying to remember. Draco looked about ready to flee.

 

Ginny erupted into giggles at the look on his face. “Don’t be such a pretentious prat, Draco! You know very well Mum has us clean the floors every few days. Now sit down and stop being a girl.” And with that, she took his wrist and pulled him down onto the cushions across from her. He grimaced, but she completely ignored him and took one of the glasses from his hand.

 

“You never told me why you came to me in the first place. Or what you need the dimwits to get for you.”

 

“Is that a question?” he asked, still looking uneasy but pouring them both shots anyway.

 

“Yeah.”

 

He shrugged carelessly. “It is quite desperate for a person to drink alone. My choice was either you or Kreacher.”

 

“Oh, really, you’re turning my head.”

 

Draco picked up his glass and downed the glass easily. Ginny followed suit.  The liquid burned down her throat, and she started coughing. And yet, despite that, she could feel the alcohol hit her stomach and was already starting to feel good.

 

“Another. I’ll pour this time. You talk.” Ginny placed the glasses next to each other and drizzled the Firewhiskey over both without stopping. She was very proud of herself for not spilling any.

 

Again, Draco took his shot effortlessly. This time, Ginny knew what to expect, and it was a little easier. And she was starting to feel better and better.

 

“Music,” he announced suddenly.

 

“What?”

 

“I want sheet music from the bookstore. The collection here is rubbish.”

 

Ginny stared at him incomprehensibly. “You really do play then?”

 

“No, it was all just an elaborate ruse to lure you to the attic so I could have my wicked way with you,” he said as he poured another round.

 

As she took her third shot, she tried to figure out if he was kidding or not.

 

“ _Honestly_. Of _course_ I really play.”

 

Ginny lounged against the pillows. “It just doesn’t seem like your kind of thing. Art…music…what’s next?”

 

“Underwater basket weaving, I think.”

 

“Now I know you’re joking!” And she laughed as if it was the most hilarious thing she had ever heard.

 

Ginny learned a lot about Draco that evening and about herself. He told her about the appreciation of the arts that he gained from his mother. He actually had something resembling pride and adoration in his voice when he talked of her, and Ginny knew he missed her.

 

They even touched on the world around them. She would never truly understand what went through a person’s head to make them become a Death Eater, but Draco provided a little insight. For him, it was not a choice to be made; it was simply the thing to do. What reason would he have to question his father’s ideals?

 

“I still don’t think he’s wrong,” he slurred stubbornly. “I just don’t want to kill anyone.”

 

Ginny erupted into giggles again, though she wasn’t sure why.

 

In turn, she told him all about her childhood. She told him how she grew up carrying a torch for Harry. She admitted how much she missed him and stared longingly out the window, wondering where they were now. Ginny was too lost in her own world and too drunk to see the look that flashed across Draco’s face.

 

It was clear they came from very different worlds, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world for them to be sitting together, sharing a bottle of Firewhiskey and even a few laughs. 

 

And what did Ginny learn about herself?  She learned that she couldn’t hold her liquor.


	11. Without You

Chapter Eleven. Without You

 

 

 

_Without you, the hand gropes, the ear hears, the pulse beats, the eyes gaze, the legs walk, the lungs breathe, the mind churns, the heart yearns, the tears dry…Life goes on, but I’m gone, cause I die without you._

**_—“Without You,” RENT_ **

 

 

January was a cold and blistery month. For the first time in ages, Ginny was glad that she wasn’t at Hogwarts.

 

She and Draco were getting along in a weird sort of camaraderie. They would scoff and insult each other. They were cruel and held nothing back. Their duelling in lessons was fierce and often painful. They let all their frustrations out on each other.

 

And then Draco would show Ginny how to play a few notes on the piano. By the end of one week, she was even able to play a simple song. Sometimes he would guide her hands over the keys, and Ginny felt a thrill shoot through her. And when she memorised a song and played it for him, she felt as if she was creating a magic all her own. Her hands played the few notes she had learned with ease, and she was filled with accomplishment. It seemed right somehow that it was Draco Malfoy that would share this with her, and not anyone else.

 

Her feelings for him were growing by the day, and it seemed harder and harder to fight it.

 

Guilt ate her up inside, of course. She knew she was betraying Harry by liking Draco, even though she and Harry technically weren’t a couple. It got to the point where she couldn’t even look at Draco sometimes.

 

And at other times, like when he was kissing her so softly and sweetly or when he showed her a small collection of his drawings, Harry was the farthest thing from her mind.

 

There was no doubt that she still loved Harry. She knew in her heart that love was not a thing that could disappear – there were just varying states of the emotion. But was it even possible to love one person and to have real feelings for another at the same time?

 

And then on the twenty-third of January, nothing mattered anymore. Her conflicted feelings, the fact that she was having problems brewing cleaning potions, the restlessness and helpless that seemed to forever grip the house. All of it flew out the window.

 

It was a grey and overcast morning, with rain on the way. Ginny was sitting in the study, poring over one of her textbooks. Suddenly, the skies opened up, and the rain started falling down hard. Her legs were draped over the side of an armchair, and she stopped swinging them, laying her book facedown on the floor, and listened.

 

“Are you having an epiphany or something?” Draco’s voice drawled from the other side of the room at the desk where he was seated.

 

“No,” Ginny said, shaking her head and smiling. “I just love the rain. All my brothers do.” She felt wherever they were in the world, they were all united by the rain, whether it was actually raining where they were at or not.

 

A great boom of thunder and a crack of lightning filled the air, and a shiver went down Ginny’s spine.

 

“Cold?”

 

“A little. You know, we loved the rain, but we all hated thunderstorms. Sometimes I would crawl in Bill or Charlie’s bed and stay the night. Later, when it was just me and Ron, he could never turn me away, no matter how much he protested at first. I knew he was a little scared too.”

 

“Very touching,” Draco said sarcastically. “Did you and Weasel King wet your pants together too?”

 

“You’re just jealous because you never had siblings.”

 

“Absolutely not,” he said brusquely and closed his book with a snap. 

 

The lightning flared again and gave the room a eerie light. Ginny felt slightly uneasy for some reason.

 

“Mum almost always makes hot chocolate when it storms. Do you want some?” she asked as she rose from the chair.

Draco too pushed his chair back and stood up. “I could warm you.”

 

“Hmm…I’m sure you would love that, wouldn’t you? But no, I really fancy chocolate at the moment.”

 

Ginny left the room and went down the stairs to the kitchen. She was feeling generally well enough, and yet still there was something she couldn’t quite shake off.

 

She swung the kitchen door open, and sure enough she found her mum stirring a saucepan on the stove. The fire was cackling, and the room smelled of warm chocolate. Briefly, she was reminded of the Burrow, as if things were back to normal.

 

“Hi Mum!” she said brightly.

 

“Hello dear. I knew you’d be down here. Come sit with me and have a cup.”

 

“Love to.”

 

Ginny got two mugs down from the cupboard, and her mother tipped the hot chocolate into them. They each pulled up a chair and gathered around the fire.

 

“This is nice,” her mum murmured.

 

“Yes,” Ginny agreed. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts.

 

Her mother set down her half-empty mug and suddenly smiled. “Do you remember that time when you and Ron were little, and both of you demanded that we take a cup of chocolate to your father’s office?”

 

“Oh yeah!” Ginny said, chuckling. “We didn’t want him to be left out because we were all home drinking some. Well, Bill and Charlie might have been at school at the time, but I think the rest of us were here, right?”

 

“I believe so. I remember you were near tears, and I figured it must have been your idea. But Ron refused to back down too.”

 

“Ron was always ready to go on any adventure I wanted to go on. Even if it was just bringing a cup of hot chocolate to Dad.”

 

“Your brother does enjoy his adventures,” her mum said softly. “And he’s loyal to the bone.”

 

Ginny drained her mug, and they sat in silence once more. She had a pretty good idea of what they were both thinking about.

 

And without warning, the kitchen door banged open just as more thunder cracked the air. Her mother had her wand drawn and stepped in front of Ginny, but there was no need as it was only her father.

 

But as soon as she got a good look at him, she screamed. “Oh my God! Dad, what happened?”

  
There was blood oozing down his face, he looked physically beaten, his robes were slashed and tattered, and he was drenched to the bone.

 

“Arthur!” her mother yelled. “What’s happened!” She went to him and dragged his weak body to an empty chair.

 

Ginny’s father looked dizzy and disoriented. With shock, she took in his whole appearance and felt ready to faint herself.

 

“Ministry…attack…You-Know-Who…takeover…lost,” he stammered. It looked as if it took all the energy he had just to speak.

 

Ginny gasped. There had been a fight at the Ministry? And it was clear who was on the losing side. She looked at her father and felt tears well up in her eyes. It hurt so much to see her father so weak.

 

“Oh, Arthur,” her mother hissed quietly while attending to his wounds. Despite the obvious concern in her eyes, she moved with a swiftness that suggested this was not the first time her father had come home in this state.

 

And then her father uttered the fatal words, the words that changed everything. “Percy…dead.”

 

 

 

***

 

Ginny ran, blindly. Where she was going, she didn’t know. There was no intention, no goal. All she knew was that she had to get away from her mother’s wrenching sobs and her father’s limp and weak body.

 

She found herself going up the stairs, felt herself trip and fall, and even registered the pain from her bruised kneecap. But she didn’t have room in her world to understand any of it. The only thing she knew was that her brother, Percy, was dead. He wasn’t living anymore. He wasn’t there for her to love or hate anymore; she would never be annoyed or cared for by him again. Percy was gone.

 

She didn’t know how long she was crumpled in a heap on the steps, bawling. She didn’t even know if she was crying inwardly or louder than the storm that still raged outside. It could have been hours, days, weeks. It could have minutes. Time, too, had no place in her world.

 

Dimly, she was aware of strong arms lifting her and carrying her like a baby. A soft and gentle voice whispered things in her ear, but it might as well have been speaking Elfin for all she understood.

 

Finally, one thing broke through her haze. “Come sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll cover you.” Bill and Charlie used to say that. So did Percy.

 

The only thought running through Ginny’s mind was that maybe, when she awoke the next morning, she would find herself a little girl of six again, lying in Percy’s warm and comforting bed, knowing they had braved the storm together.

  



End file.
